


Checkmate

by bobthebeekeeper



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angry Clint Barton, Angry Tony Stark, Civil War (Marvel), Hurt Tony Stark, Imprisonment, Interrogation, Not A Fix-It, Poor Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), The Raft Prison (Marvel), Trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 110,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobthebeekeeper/pseuds/bobthebeekeeper
Summary: Follow on from Captain America Civil War. Takes place directly after the confrontation in Siberia.Tony is taken to the Raft to explain himself and his actions to Ross. Things go downhill.... fast.





	1. 1

 

 

Tony watched as the two retreating figures disappeared from view, one supporting the other. He tried to get up to his feet, but the weight of the dead suit combined with the pain in his chest, zig zagging up and down his midsection with each breath made it impossible. He let out a pained gasp and collapsed back against the floor with frustration. He laid against the cold stone for some time, staring at the discarded shield across the room, before gritting his teeth and crawling back up to his knees. His employed the release mechanisms on the suit, climbed out of it and headed over to Cap’s shield. He staggered to the side and had to lean against a wall for a moment, as pain spiked again through his chest, before he took a deep breath and stormed back over to the item. He picked the shield up, ran his fingers along its smooth circular edge before digging his nail into the scratches that covered it.

He sighed, ran his hands over the star gently before screaming “son of a bitch!” at the top of his lungs and throwing the weapon at his suit. He watched with satisfaction as it clanged against the Iron Man armour. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled at it as he stamped his foot on the group and screamed the words aloud once more.

Calming down slightly, he took a shuddering breath and slowly turned around to check his surroundings. He made his way around the silo to confirm he was alone, and trapped. Yep. No way out without the suit. He stalked back over to the monitor Zemo had displayed his parents death on earlier. The screen was still functional, paused at the end, showing only the grey static fuzz. He considered watching it again, but didn’t want to, didn’t need to, the images would be forever ingrained in his mind. Instead he hefted the monitor up and threw it onto the floor. He watched with satisfaction as it bounced and then the screen shattered as it rolled to a stop. He stalked over to it and sat it back down against the floor in its upright position, mindful of the shattered glass, and then sat down on top of it.

The soldiers found him sat there, head resting in his hands, three hours later.

*

“Mr Stark, sir?”

Tony looked up, hesitated a moment before nodding his head.

“Are you alone?” Tony stood up stiffly, still aching, well, everywhere. “Sure am.”

One soldier held out a foil blanket to him. “You should put this on sir,” he motioned to Tony’ outfit, the black jeans and t-shirt. “It will help stabilise your body temperature.”

Tony pushed past the soldier without taking the blanket. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“We’re here to take you back, sir. Please come with us.”

“Is Ross still on the Raft?”

“Yes sir.”

“Great,” Tony sighed “My suit, it’s down; it needs transporting back.”

“Yes sir, we’ll take care of it.”

“The shield too,” Tony swallowed heavily. “That belongs to me now.”

“Of course.”

*

The atmosphere changed when the helicopter Tony and the strike team were travelling in touched down within the Raft. It didn’t go unnoticed when two of the team insisted they escort him to a specific meeting room as Ross had things he wanted to discuss with him.

“What about my suit, I need to-“

“We’ll take care of that sir.”

Tony didn’t protest any further. The fact that the conference rooms were located on the north side of the building, and he was escorted to the west side, was also noticed. He had only visited the Raft once before this hellish day, and he seemed to remember that the west side was where prisoners were kept, where interrogations were held, where suspects were questioned. Great. _Get your story straight_ , Tony thought, as he was marched across the facility. He could twist this, and his injuries, to his advantage. Explain to Ross that he had been trying to bring the two fugitives in alone. The thought twisted in his stomach. No. _No_. He would not lie – not to Ross, not to anyone. Though his anger still surged at both Barnes and Rogers – he wouldn’t lie to save himself. That had never been his style.

“Hey!”

An angry yell broke Tony from his thoughts and he realised the soldiers were taking him through the prison itself, where some of his angry ex-team mates were yelling at their cell doors for his attention. _Wow_ , Tony thought, _very subtle, Ross_. Ordering his strike team to bring Tony through the actual prison was about as subtle as if they had already put him in handcuffs. He was aware of the fine line between freedom and imprisonment he had been walking for the past few days, Ross had reminded him at every opportunity, so this additional threat was unnecessary. Tony stared ahead but then finally stopped and gave Hawkeye the attention he demanded as he kicked his cell door for a third time. Tony glanced at the soldiers, tipped his head to the side, hating himself for deferring to them, but not wanting to piss Ross off any further. The soldier rested his hand on his gun but nodded his permission.Tony stalked over to the door to Clint’s cell, keeping back a foot or two as he saw the anger and frustration still littering Clint’s face.

“What happened?” Clint demanded. “Sam told me, you were going after them as a friend.” The way he spat the last word out told Tony exactly where he stood in Clint’s estimation right now.

Tony straightened his back up as he replied. “I did go as a friend.” He knew the conversation would be monitored, that Ross would use this confirmation of his intentions against him, hold it over him, but he didn’t care. He was done lying, twisting words, trying to keep everyone happy. He had nothing to hide.

“Then what the hell happened to your face?”

The glint of amusement in his old friend’s eyes hurt more than Tony would like to admit. To hide it, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Things changed. Cap doesn’t like it when you try to kill his old war buddy.”

Clint seethed with anger. “You tried to kill them?”

“No,” Tony spat, his own anger rising as the images flashed back. “I tried to kill Barnes. Cap overpowered me and they got away.” He smiled, wanting to hurt Barton back. “I did manage to blow his metal arm off first, but that was as far as I got,” he smirked and shrugged his shoulders at the same time.

“Why?” Clint asked, confused. “You said you were going there to help – if that was a lie then why not arrest or kill both of them. Why go after Barnes?”

Tony was furious. He slammed his own hand against the separation glass so hard Clint dropped back a notch.

“Why would I want to kill Cap, Clint, why?” He gritted is teeth. “All I have tried to do since this started was protect the team,” he hit the glass again. “That’s all I’m trying to do, you’re just all too blind to see it.”

“Then why go after Barnes?”

“He isn’t part of this team!” Tony shouted, unable to control himself. “He’s one of the factors helping to destroy it.”

Clint was still confused but was enjoying his moment aggravating Stark. “You’re going mad, man. Must be the pressure, I can understand, must be hard, playing both sides-“

Tony punched the glass this time. “This had nothing to do with you!” He yelled, losing his temper. “Why are you even here? Why did you get involved?!”

“My friends needed me.”

“No,” Tony growled, “they didn’t. Now they need you – but it’s too late.”

Tony spun around as a hand pulled at his arm. “Mr Stark, sir, we need to go.” Tony glared at the soldier before slowly turning to follow.

“That sounded like a request to me, _sir_ ,” Clint yelled, mocking.

“How long until your sorry ass is sat in one of these cells?”

_Not long_ , Tony thought, as he carried on following the soldiers. He didn’t look back.

*


	2. Chapter 2

Tony was marched down long winding corridors and gave up trying to remember the route he had been taken. He was surprised by the size of the facility. He was further surprised when he was deposited into an interview room that Ross was already there, waiting for him. He’d expected to be left for a few hours in an attempt to soften him up. Seeing Ross waiting, stood upright, hands in pockets, threw him off guard, and he felt a ping of anxiety ripple through him. Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Tony strode into the room, it held a simple stainless steel table, and two chairs on each side. Tony moved over to the opposite side of where Ross was glaring at him, put his hands on the back of the chair and leaned over it, staring at his skewed reflection on the table, biting his lip.

“So…” Tony said, finally looking up at Ross. He let the word trail off, decided to leave the ball in Ross’ court.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Stark,” Ross snapped, and began pacing the small room. “I know you knocked the audio out when you were last here. I’m assuming Wilson gave you Roger’s location. You went after them. Were you trying to help them?”

“I had evidence that Barnes was innocent. I sent this to you, did you not look-“

“You do not get to decide what action you take, I do god damn it!” Ross snarled, banging his fist on the table. “You bring it to me and I make the call! You don’t go off gallivanting without my say so!” Spittle flew out of his mouth as he ranted.

Tony said nothing, still not sure where this was going or how to play the situation.

Ross ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. “Do you know where they are now?” He asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

Tony shook his head, allowed the bitterness to break into his voice. “No.”

“What happened to your face?”

Tony shrugged. “We… had a little scuffle.”

Ross folded his arms tightly across his chest and started pacing again. “Do you have any tech here?”

Tony shook his head again, then paused. “Just the armour, it’s fried though.”

“Nothing else?”

Tony shook his head a third time.

“Well, given your recent behaviour, I’m sure you’ll understand why I won’t take you at your word. You’ll be taken for a scan and search – luckily I’m not a man who puts all of my eggs in one basket – I’ve had tech designed specifically to root out Stark tech in the immediate vicinity.”

Tony wasn’t surprised. “Well, then you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

“It’s a little too late to preach to me about honesty, Stark.”

*

The scan was painless and fast. He faced a wall, arms outstretched as two men scanned him over with a wand, then turned him around to repeat the action. Tony still felt like his nerves were on edge, the fact that they were checking for tech was not a good sign. But he was almost too tired to care. He had no faith that the wand would have picked anything up if he did have anything with him, but he had been travelling light. The armour really was all he had with him on the Raft, and with the damage Steve did to it, it was effectively useless.

The scanning was followed up with an over efficient pat down and then he was once again ordered to follow his escorts. He was led this time into what looked like a medical area and was taken to a small room that looked like a hospital room, where a man in a white coat and Ross were waiting for him.

“Given the state of your face, you will undergo a medical.”

“No congrats for passing your little scanner search?” Tony couldn’t help himself.

“Knock it off, Stark,” Ross said, before turning his attention to the balding man in the lab coat. “Full once over, I want a detailed report.”

“Yes sir, I’ll alert you as soon as were done.”

“No need,” Ross said, turning to smile at Tony as he did. “I’m staying. He doesn’t go out of my sight.”

“Very well. Mr Stark, please take a seat on the bed, and we’ll get started.”

Tony sighed. He knew Ross was trying to unnerve him, keep him on edge, humiliate him even, by staying to watch. He moved over to the bed slowly, letting his irritation show as much as he tried to hide it.

The doctor scurried over with a clipboard in hand. “I’ll need you to remove your shirt.”

“Look,” Tony said, unable to stop himself. “Is this really necessary? I’m fine, okay. Let’s just skip this.” He started to get up off the bed and Ross placed a warning hand on his arm to stop him.

“The doctor asked you to take your shirt off Tony,” he warned.

Tony stared at the man and tried to swallow his anger down, he didn’t want to give Ross the reaction he was looking for. He took a breath, and reached for the hem of his t-shirt. He swallowed back a moan of pain as he pulled the clothing up over his head, his chest and arms aching with the action. He dropped the material onto the bed and couldn’t help the way his chest rose and fell faster than normal as he tried to breathe his way through the pain. He looked down at his chest, tried not to gasp at the sight of it, littered with colourful bruises and scrapes from the events of the last few days.

Ross pulled out a chair, letting it scrape across the floor before sitting in it. He leant back, legs crossed, clearly enjoying the show. Tony tried to block him out as the doctor approached, snapping his gloves on.

“Okay,” Tony said, trying to at least act like he had some form of control. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ross continued to stare, a small smile creeping over his face.

*

Once the medical was over, Tony was given some blue scrubs to put on. He turned up his nose as he accepted the clothing, but decided not to complain, it was better than a prison jumpsuit. He struggled to pull the long sleeved top on, his chest still throbbing as he raised his arms. The doctor had x-rayed his head and chest. The wounds to his face were superficial and didn’t require stitches. They said he had a suspected concussion, but what was new? The man had cleaned the scrapes along his chest and confirmed what he already knew, he had four bruised ribs and one with a fracture. Nothing to do for him but painkillers and rest. Tony doubted he’d be getting much of either.

Ross came back into the room, the same two soldier escorts as before waiting a step back. Tony looked them up and down, they were fully armed.

“You ready?”

Tony nodded.

“Come on,” he ordered, and Tony simply followed.

He realised they hadn’t given him any shoes, but chose not to make a big deal about it. He was still wondering what the medical would achieve. Maybe Ross wasn’t planning on arresting him. But that seemed unlikely. The man was practically gliding across the floor, he was clearly pleased that Tony had messed up, that he owned him. More corridors, a staircase down, how big was this place? Tony couldn’t help but feel he should be taking a better note of his surroundings, but he was just so tired. And he hurt. And his head… it was too full of images he was still trying to banish for him to think about anything else.

So he followed blankly until he was taken back to the first room, with the table and four chairs, not even a mirror. Ross pulled out a chair for him so he sat in it. As Ross was making himself comfortable Tony glanced up, saw the camera staring down at him. Ross dropped a file on the table and began leafing through it, taking his time, enjoying the feeling of being in charge.

Tony felt his stomach tighten again, his nerves rising to the surface. How was he going to play this? Spin the story and the injuries they now had evidence of, to his advantage? Throw Steve and Barnes under the bus? No, he thought, taking a deep breath to calm the rush of anger that coursed through him at the thought of Barnes. He would tell the truth and that was it. If Ross arrested him, so be it. He was too tired to care. He just wanted this whole thing to be over with. Ross cleared his throat, linked his fingers together as he rested his hands on the table. He was loving the limelight, practically glowing.

“So,” he said, his voice demanding, the smile dropping from his face. “What the fuck happened in Siberia?”

Tony sighed. _Time to sign my own death warrant_ , he thought; and then he began to speak.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, please comment!!!   
> I aim to update every Sunday, if people are reading it, that is!  
> Thanks x


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was tired, he ached literally everywhere and was fast becoming bored with the “debrief.” He rested his head on his fist, the other hand drawing lines along the stainless steel table as he stared down at it. He had told Ross everything. He stuck with the truth, incriminating himself in how he had obtained the location of Siberia from Wilson after knocking out the audio from their systems with his StarkWatch. He explained how Steve and Barnes had gone to Siberia only to stop Zemo from unleashing more super soldiers into the world, and how they had all been mistaken; that Zemo’s real intentions were instead to unleash Tony from his belief that his parents had died in a tragic car accident. Zemo had wanted to destroy them from the inside. _He succeeded_ , Tony thought bitterly.

Ross had whistled at the news that his parents had been murdered by Barnes himself. “I always thought your old man had had a few too many and the company paid to hush it up,” he’d laughed. Tony had fought to keep a straight face, to not let his anger show; he knew Ross wanted a reaction. It hurt though, those words, because that’s exactly what he himself had always thought. Always blamed his father for taking his mother away, but it wasn’t true, not at all.

“You tried to kill Barnes?”

Tony nodded. He wasn’t proud of his actions, he had lost all self-control. It still hurt, and the footage played over and over in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to block it out. But deep down a small voice suggested that Barnes wasn’t to blame. It was Steve’s betrayal that had cut him to the bone.

“And you failed.” Ross was still pacing. It wasn’t a question, but Tony knew he was waiting for a response.

“Obviously,” he said, still staring at the pattern his fingertips were tracing into the table.

“Twice you tried to bring them in, twice you failed.” Ross’ tone was accusatory.

“Are you suggesting I let them go?”

“Romanov did, before. You already admitted you went there to help them. I don’t know if I believe that you, the supposed "Iron Man", were as helpless as you suggest.”

Tony’s head snapped up as he turned to stare at the General. “Why would I try to kill them, to let them just walk away? Why would I blow Barnes’ arm off, if I didn’t want him dead? Why did Rogers destroy my suit?” He spat, furious.

“Rogers let you live.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said, deflating again. “That’s Captain America for you.”

Ross pulled a chair out and sat down opposite Tony, rubbing a hand over his chin. “We need to bring them in, Rogers and Barnes.”

“Look,” Tony started, “I know you’re mad at Steve, for not signing, but he was actually right all along. Barnes was framed for the bombings, you know that, you have the evidence, whether you chose to view it or not. Neither of them have actually done anything wrong.”

“He broke the Accords!”

“But he was right.”

Ross slammed his fist against the table. “I don’t understand you Stark. I thought you signed the Accords because you genuinely believed in them.”

“I do!”

“No, you don’t. You believe in the parts you want to, the parts that suit you. You’re just as bad as they are.”

Tony sighed, it was clear Ross wasn’t listening to him.

“Rogers didn’t sign, therefore he had no authority doing what he did. Same goes for Barnes. I want them both brought in, dead or alive. Given that you were trying to kill them yourself, just a few hours ago, I thought you’d be with me on this.”

Tony just stared at him, slowly shaking his head.

“Do you know where they are?” Tony barked out a laugh. “Me! Know where they are? Are you forgetting that I tried to kill Barnes before they destroyed my suit and abandoned me in Siberia?”

“Do you know where they are?”

“And you want Captain America dead? Even the Accords don’t support this, no matter how you try to twist them.“

“Do. You. Know. Where. They. Are? Think carefully before you answer.”

Tony swallowed hard. Shook his head. Stopped his argument. “No.”

“This is all going in your file,” he warned.

“I don’t know where they are. In case you forgot, they hate me, all of them. I’m not the person they’re going to confide in.”

“Okay. If that’s your final answer.”

“It is,” he started tapping his fingers on the table again. “Can’t tell you what I don’t know,” he added flippantly.”

“Of course not.” Ross smiled and stood up, straightened his tie as he made to leave.

“So what happens now?” Ross stopped by the door, leant his back against it as he raised an eyebrow in question. “Am I under arrest? Am I free to go?”

Ross smirked. “You are to be detailed here until the council reaches a decision on the question of your future.”

“Detained? So I am under arrest then.”

“Call it what you want.”

Tony shrugged, trying to hide his alarm, act indifferent. “Well, if I’m going to be hanging out here, I’ll need to make some calls; I’m going to need to speak to the-“

Ross cut him off with a burst of laughter and then left the room without another word.

*

Tony was left alone. He restarted the drumming of his fingers against the table, before sitting back against his chair. He stifled a yawn and rubbed at his tired eyes before wincing as his hand made contacted with the bruised and swollen skin around his eye. He ran a hand through his hair and then patted both cheeks to try and make himself more aware. He yawned again, his exhaustion catching up with him. How long had he been awake? He couldn’t remember. Too much had happened, over the past few days. He blinked once or twice, trying to order his thoughts in his mind. He was being detained here. _Detained_. He, Tony Stark, detained in the Raft.

“Have I been a huge idiot?” he said out loud, to himself.

He had admitted his guilt. But he had done the right thing. He’d just have to wait to see how Ross played it out. He’d probably hold him for a day or two, as some kind of desperate power play, then let him out, both of them knowing that he owed him. And if he didn’t… well, Tony would just have to wait and see what happened. He slumped down in his chair, blinked again and felt himself start to doze off.

He saw the image of his father, beaten and bleeding on the floor, Barnes standing over him. He saw his mother, heard her gasps for breath… and then Steve’s shield was slamming into him-

The clang of the door to the room opening coincided with the sound the shield made as it crashed into the suit and Tony woke, startled, jumping up from the chair. He tried to look calm as an armed soldier entered the room, despite how startled he felt.

“Mr Stark,” he said, then placed a bundle of clothes onto the table. “These are for you. Change and we’ll escort you to your room.”

Tony smirked at the discomfort on the young soldiers face. “So thoughtful of you,” he said. He couldn't help himself.

“We’ll be back in five minutes.”

Tony was alone again. He eyed the bundle of clothes distastefully before decided to change. Real clothes would be better than scrubs. He changed slowly, ribs and chest still aching, head pounding, still battling exhaustion. He pulled on the grey sweatpants and jumper, and tried not to frown. The material was thick and warm, at least, he thought, as he pulled on the white pumps which had also been supplied. He wasn’t going to complain about the footwear.

The door opened, and the soldier beckoned him out. A second soldier also awaited, and Tony followed, a man on each side. His mind was still whirring but he tried to shut everything out and instead to take more of an interest in his surroundings. He sighed as he realised the men were taking him through the holding area where Clint, Sam and Lang were being held. Wanda wasn't there, and he wondered where she was. He felt his stomach tighten at the thought of seeing any of them again.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked suddenly worried – what if they put him in a cell near the others? He couldn’t face that. The soldiers ignored him and he felt his pulse quicken at the prospect. He held his breath as he was taken through the holding area, praying the soldiers wouldn't stop. He passed Sam’s cell and tried to pretend he hadn’t seen the way Wilson glared at him. Lang was asleep on his bed, but no such luck with Clint.

Did the guards tell Clint they were bringing him through, Tony wondered? He swallowed as he saw Clint stood pressed against his clear cell door, arms pressed against the glass as he stared at Tony.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he snarled, his tone mocking.

Tony was still preoccupied with worry at the thought of being left here. Had the soldiers slowed their pace?

“You got yourself two body guards now?”

Tony preferred him to think the men were there for his protection rather than his containment. He tried to look casual as he passed the cell, throwing his hands into his pockets. “Better to be safe than sorry,” he said lightly as he passed the cell, still walking in step with the two men. Tony didn’t look back, and felt his body sag in relief as the men kept waking, taking him through and out of the holding area, away from his old team mates. He was taken further, down more narrow corridors, the guards stopping to swipe their access cards against heavy security doors barring the way every few hundred yards. They stopped besides a reinforced door with an electronic keypad and the older soldier ordered Tony to face the wall. A gloved hand was placed on his neck, forcing him to look away as the younger man entered a ten digit code, each digit making an electronic beep.

“Protecting your assets, right?” Tony joked, but he was met with silence. The door swung open, his neck was released and he was herded into the small room. The door was closed behind him, and Tony frowned as he surveyed his surroundings. The walls looked to be made of steel, and it was hard to decipher the door he had entered through from the walls. The floor was pure cold and grey concrete. There was a single mattress in the far corner of the room, and a toilet with a sink in the other corner. Tony sighed and looked up. A single bulb lit the room, and two security cameras pointed down at him from the high ceiling. Tony plastered a fake smile on his face and gave the camera a wave. He sat down on the musty mattress and thought about all of the things he should be thinking about. Rogers. Barnes. His parents. SI. Pepper and Rhodey. Vision. General Ross had his ass locked down in a secret maximum security prison in the middle of the ocean. He needed to think, he needed to plan – he needed to sleep. Exhaustion catching up with him, he slumped down against the mattress, resting his head against his arms to use them as a pillow. He closed his eyes, knowing he needed to rest before he could actually think.

“Detained? Sure,” he grumbled to himself before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sh*t is going to hit the fan soon! 
> 
> Please leave comments, I love comments!
> 
> Thanks for reading! x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sh!ts about to go down!

Tony woke with a startled gasp and pushed up against the thin mattress that served as his bed. He pushed himself back into a corner of the room, leaning against the two cold walls as he rubbed a shaking hand across his sweaty face. He shook his head, willing the images that plagued his sleep out of his mind. Images of his mother, screaming, gasping, and his father’s body, so still, inside the burning car. He scrambled to his feet and ran the tap in the basin fixed to the toilet. He watched the water run for a minute or two, then filled his hands with the cold water and splashed it over his face. He repeated the action twice more before holding his mouth under the tap and drinking, desperate to rouse himself from his sleep and the screams that still echoed in his ears.

As the memory of the dream faded he looked around the room again, the dim bulb lighting it, too high to reach; the dull grey walls, and the two small cameras jerking to follow his every move. He sighed and sat back down in the corner on his bed, knees up to his chest as he thought. He thought and thought and thought. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. And there was so much to think about. He saw Steve and Barnes leaving the silo, supporting each other as they stumbled away from him and he felt the anger build inside him. Anger at Steve for being so narrow minded and stubborn, so unwilling to compromise. And then Barnes. He shook his head, trying to banish the images from his mind. His thoughts fell back to Rogers again, how he had lied, held back the truth about his parents from him, selfishly trying to protect Barnes. _How could he?_ His thoughts flittered on to Rhodey, and he gripped his hair in his hands as worry consumed him. He had left him in the hospital, and now he was alone. Guilt coursed through him, but he couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t help Rhodey, not until Ross got over his tantrum and released him.

He got up to his feet again, stiffly holding a hand to his side as he did so. He paced the small room as his frustration deepened, he paced again and again and again until he couldn’t remember how long he had been doing it. Eventually he lowered himself back onto the damp matters and stretched out on it. His body ached, worse than before, though his headache had eased at least. He ran a hand gently over his eye and winced at the swelling. He thought about Rhodey again, how scared he had looked before he left, and stopped feeling sorry for himself. He was lucky, he had gotten his friend almost killed, he didn’t deserve to feel sorry for himself. He was still tired, he had no idea how long he had slept for but knew his body needed more rest, he had pushed it to the limit over the past week or so. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to dream, but he drifted back off anyway, simply too tired to fight it.

*

Tony couldn’t sleep. He had drifted off earlier, and had been startled from his slumber once again after watching Rhodey plummet to the ground, this time without a suit. He jerked up just before his friend hit the ground. He scrambled to his knees as reality caught up with him and he realised it was just a dream. Almost. He crawled to his feet and began to pace the small space, clenching his fist as he did so. His new routine, sleep, dream, pace. He had it down to a tee. He didn’t know how long he had slept, how long he had been here; the light was always on when he woke and he wondered if they ever turned it off. He leant against a wall and crossed his arms across his chest as he brought his breath back to an even pace, he had been close to hyperventilating when he woke.

He leant his head back against the wall and thought about the specs for the braces he would create for his friend to help him walk. He stumbled back over to the tap and guzzled more water greedily. Each time he woke, he went through the same routine, again and again and again. People told him routine was healthy, he didn’t agree. He drank some more water and then started to pace again, scared of falling victim to his dreams once more should he sit back down. Eventually he tired and gave in, climbing down to his mattress.

He was hungry, starving really, he had not eaten since he had been taken to the RAFT, and it was catching up with him. Dark spots littered his vision when he paced, his stomach ached and groaned and he felt constantly weak and dizzy. He knew his strength fading. How long had it been, since his “detainment” had began? He didn’t know. The light never went out and his door had never been opened. The water and snatches of nightmarish sleep was all that sustained him. He ran a hand over his face and felt the stubble that was growing, a few days’ worth at least. Where was Ross? Was he watching? Had he forgotten about Tony? Was he just playing another one of his games?

He stared back up at the camera pointing down at him, trying to appear relaxed. But his face burned with shame when he woke from the dreams, knowing others could see his torment. He curled up on his side and started tapping a tune against the wall with his fingers. He was exhausted, but too scared to sleep. The dreams were too real, too awful, even if it was what he deserved.

“Just wait it out,” he whispered to himself, before he started planning a redesign of the first draft of the leg braces he had mapped out in his mind. An hour later, he was asleep again, trembling against the mattress. The two cameras continued to stare down on him, watching his every move. From the surveillance room, Ross and Clark, one of his men, watched the screen. Clark nodded to the screen impatiently.

“When do we get started?” he asked.

Ross shook his head. “Give it a couple more days.”

“He’s ready now.” The man argued.

“Exactly. He’s doing all of the work himself.” He smiled greedily to himself as he watched Tony sleep on the screen. “Give him a few more days of his own company and he’ll be ready to talk.”

*

Tony was disorientated when he woke from his slumber. He blinked with confusion as he realised two men were grabbing at his arms, dragging him to his feet and pushing him from the room. He was barely conscious and weak and startled and he tripped and fell to his knees as he looked up at the men blearily. They were dressed in full combat gear and didn’t give him a second, latching on to his upper arms and dragging him back to his feet, forcing him to trip and stumble as they led the way. He was taken through a dim corridor and down a steep flight of metal stairs that echoed as the soldiers boots crashed against each step.

Tony moved between them, now feeling slightly more alert, glad of the hands holding him up, urging him onwards, he was so weak he didn’t think he could walk unaided. He was taken to a room, this one like the last with a table and two chairs. But this time the walls were concrete and there was a one way mirror. He was deposited into a chair and one of the men cuffed his right arm to the upper leg of the chair, restricting his movement. Tony twisted as far as he could to look at them as he grumbled “is this really necessary?” and was surprised to see they both had guns pointed at him. What did they think he was going to do?

Ross wasted no time strutting into the room in a fresh white suit. He held a tan leather suitcase with him, bursting with items. He slapped it down on the table and then stood behind his chair facing Tony's, staring down at him. Tony smiled, trying to look calm, confident, to hide his growing unease. Clearly the Council had not decided in his favour. He wouldn’t let Ross see his fear.

“I know I’m good, but I think that’s overkill,” he said, nodding his head backwards at the guards.

Ross just smiled, starring hard at him, before slowly looking him up and down. “You look like shit,” he stated before pulling his own chair out. The metal scraped against the concrete, making Tony shiver.

“Yeah well, the accommodation leaves a lot to be desired.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Ross said gruffly, and Tony felt his stomach jump.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging, trying to keep his game face on. “I'm very adaptable. Anyway, I'm assuming I'm officially under arrest now?”

Ross smirked darkly before shaking his head. “To be under arrest, you would need to be a prisoner. And as far as we are concerned, there is no Tony Stark in this establishment.”

Tony felt himself go cold as realisation hit him. He tried to keep his mask from slipping. “But here I am.” He held his free arm out. “And given the fact that the whole Council have supposedly voted on my arrest, they all know where I am.”

“You know they wanted to acquit you? They believed you, I believed you.” Tony was confused, Ross continued on, his temper rising with each word. “I believed you. I fell for it. I thought you had fallen out with your little group, thought you were done with them. I thought Rogers and Barnes had left you for dead. I thought the line had been drawn and you stood on our side of it.” Tony still looked confused. “And yet,” Ross continued, now fumbling through his briefcase, "and yet,” he said, smiling triumphantly as he pulled out a phone and a crumpled letter “Look what we have here.”

Tony waited for Ross to continue, waited to understand where this was going. He was surprised when Ross stood and threw the phone at him, it him on the shoulder and bounced off, scattering across the floor by Ross’ feet.

“What the hell,” Tony yelled angrily.

“You lied to me, again,” Ross snarled, “it will be the last time you do.”

“Huh?” Tony was angry, “what the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

Ross leant forward, waving the letter in Tony’s face, and Tony couldn’t help but flinch back.

“Rogers sent you a letter, and a phone; Stark, that’s what I’m talking about.” He put the letter back into his briefcase and glared some more as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. “I went to the Council, I claimed you to be innocent. I told them you had made a mistake, you were sorry, but we could still work together and achieve something. Four hours later the search team found this.” Ross sighed, kicked a foot against the floor. “Made me look stupid, but actually, it was worth it. Now I know your still one of them, I’ll use it to my advantage.”

“I don’t know anything about a phone or letter. I’ve been here since I left Siberia.”

Ross shrugged. “It’s proof of association. The Council have condemned you. You’ll be treated as a prisoner along with your other friends residing here.”

Tony shook his head, incredulous. “So what are you arresting me for, exactly?”

“Treason.”

Tony laughed. “After everything I’ve done? And with no trial? I’m Tony Stark. Don’t you think people will notice that I’ve gone unexpectedly missing? Jesus, the papers, I’m in them every day, the press stalk my every move, and you think I can just disappear?”

Ross smiled again. He went back to the briefcase and threw a bundle of papers onto the table. “Take a look for yourself.” He fanned the papers out and began flipping through them at a frantic pace. “You’ve been here almost a week, Stark, and nobody seems to give a damn.”

Tony shrugged off the comment. “They will. You want to lock me up, fine. Give me a trial, I’ve already admitted my crimes. I need time to put my affairs in order. But this with the phone is bullshit. You know how much crap I get sent in the mail every day?”

“People don’t care about you Stark,” Ross snarled as he took a step back, then another, before nodding to the two soldiers as he reached the door. “You’ll realise that soon enough.”

Tony was about to answer, but the force of the fist slamming into the back of his neck jerked him forward in his seat, the cuffed wrist the only thing keeping him in the chair. He was about to yell out in complaint but didn’t get the chance as more hits rained down and his words were forgotten. He tried to curl in on himself and raised his free arm in a feeble attempt to ward off the blows. The beating stopped, as quickly as it had started, and Tony tried to catch his breath as he gasped and sucked in long juddering breaths. He looked up and saw Ross watching him from the doorway. Ross nodded his head at him and smiled slightly before leaving the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving Tony with the two soldiers. Tony felt his stomach churn as he twisted in his seat to face his two attackers as best as he could. He turned straight into the butt of the gun as it was brought down against his head, his upper body lurching forward onto the table from the impact, and then there was nothing.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please let me know what you think!  
> Comments are always great a great motivator to keep writing :)


	5. Chapter 5

Tony opened his eyes with a start and starred up at the ceiling as it slowly came into focus, the yellow glow quickly taking shape into the small light bulb set against the concrete ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again as he tried to catch the memories of his dream. Ross had been there, and two soldiers, and they had- He sat up and fell back to the flimsy mattress with a groan as pain raced through his head and upper body.

“Right, not a dream,” he mumbled, before gritting his teeth and attempting to sit up again, much more slowly. He shuffled backwards until he was able to prop himself up against the corner walls of his cell, before gently running his hands over his head where he felt several lumps and dried blood. He looked down at his grey sweater and sighed at the heavy splotches of blood which had dried on the material. He spread his arms out slightly and stretched as gently as possible, knowing it would hurt but it needed to be done. Job done, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and stretched out again before hobbling over to the sink and taking a long cold drink. He sat on the metal toilet and held his head in his hands as the dizziness returned. He rested there for a moment before pushing through it and slowly pacing his way around the room. He didn’t know what Ross was planning but he had to stay as fit and mobile as possible, even though he was slowly starving. 

His head ached as he slowly paced, but he tried to push it out of his mind. He thought about Ross, what was he playing at? They couldn’t keep him here indefinitely, not without a trial. He knew Ross had always disliked him, and he had stoked that by treating the man with blatant disrespect at times – was this him trying to show him who was boss? Tony wasn’t sure that was the case, but he was confident that “Tony Stark” couldn’t go missing for long, not without an explanation, a press conference, maybe. 

Tony was startled as he heard the beep behind his door, signalling that somebody had entered the security code required to access his cell. He backed away to the wall furthest from the door automatically, then watched wearily as the door slowly opened. A soldier stood in the doorway, gun pointed towards him. Tony wondered if it was one of the men who had beaten him yesterday, but with the black face masks it was impossible to tell. 

“Try anything and I shoot you. Understand?”

Tony nodded, hands half raised in a gesture of surrender. 

A second man entered the room, dressed in all black but unlike the soldier, he was unarmed. The man entered the space carefully, laid the tray of food he was carrying on the floor, then backed out again without once looking at the prisoner contained within the room. 

“You have five minutes to eat. When you hear the beep back away to the wall and keep your hands in plain sight. If you try anything, I will shoot you, but it won’t kill you.”

The threat was clear. Tony nodded then watched as the soldier carefully backed out of the room. The door was closed, the beep confirming he was locked in. He looked down at the tray of food with distaste, though he couldn’t deny his stomach the food, he was starving. He ate the bread quickly, it was stale but it was food. He had planned on eating slowly, but as soon as he started, he wolfed it all down, including the plastic beaker of warm milk he had been left with. He finished quickly and looked at the metal tray, wondering if it could be used as a weapon. He remembered the soldier’s threat and knew this was not the time to try anything. When, as promised, as the soldier returned five minutes later, Tony backed away to the wall, leaving the tray with the beaker on the floor by the door.

The same man who brought the food retrieved the tray and beaker, again without making any eye contact. The soldier beckoned him out of the room and Tony didn’t see that he had any choice but to follow. Two more soldiers waited outside the cell, they took an arm each and Tony was escorted down the same passage, back down the clanking stair case and to the same interrogation room as before. Tony tried to calm his nerves but it was a struggle, his heart sped up as he approached the room, wondering what they were going to do to him today. 

The men took him into the room, forced him into the same chair by the table, this time handcuffing both arms to the arm rests of the seat. Tony felt sick, he didn’t know if it was from the food, after not eating for so long, or his nerves. Probably both, he told himself. Ross stormed into the room and Tony forced himself to appear calm, he vowed that Ross would not see his fear.

Ross looked stressed, his black suit creased. Tony raised an eyebrow as he perched on the edge of his chair facing Tony, arms folded on the table, left hand tapping his right arm.   
“You’ve had a bit of time to think,” Ross said, “I hope you’re going to cooperate now.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to?” Tony smirked. “I thought they called you ‘Secretary of Defence’ for a reason. You’re so sure people won’t notice I’m missing – what about you?”

Ross shook his head. “Always the smart ass, Stark.”

“I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Look, I need to know where Rogers and Barnes have gone.”

Tony frowned. “As do I.”

“And yet, you’re saying you don’t know where Rogers is, while he’s writing love letters to you.”

Tony sighed. “As I mentioned before you let your guard dogs loose, I can’t control what people send to me.”

“Sure.” Ross glanced distractedly at his watch. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time today. I’m asking you nicely to cooperate. This is your one chance.”

Tony shrugged again. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey – wh-“ Tony felt something cold press against his neck and then saw nothing but white. He jerked in the chair, his arms pulling tight against the cuffs as his body went rigid and jerked back and forth in the chair as the electricity shot through his body. He heard a jagged gasp and realised it was coming from him. The pain, blinding pain, stopped suddenly and Tony fell forward in the chair, again the cuffs the only thing keeping from slumping onto the table. 

It took a few minutes for the blaring in his ears to clear and he noticed the slight smell of burning flesh as he came too. He could feel drool running down the side of his face and he tried to wipe it away but he couldn’t. He realised he was panting for breath and tried to stop and ended up coughing and gasping for breath instead. When he finally had enough control over himself he swallowed hard and looked up at Ross with glassy eyes. 

Ross looked bored. “Thinking of changing your mind yet?”

Tony just shook his head, feeling too weak to talk. Ross nodded his head and Tony tried to brace himself. He felt the Taser press into his upper back and for a second wondered if the material of his sweater would lessen the impact. Then his vision went white again and he was jerking in his seat, unable to move, trapped in the claws of the charge, struggling to breather, paralysed, unable to think, to move, to breathe-

It stopped suddenly and then Tony was leaning to the side coughing up bile, unable to stop himself, unable to control himself. When he finally looked up, pale and shaking with bile on his sleeve, he stared at Ross with defiance in his watery eyes. 

“That the best you got?” he gasped.

The device was thrust against the other side of his neck and this time Tony’s teeth snapped together from the charge and his gasps turned into a long and painful scream as the electricity coursed through him. Ross watched with detached disinterest as the body thrashed and jerked in the chair, the chains of the handcuffs chattering against the steel chair. When the soldier released the charge, Tony slumped in the seat, unconscious. 

Ross wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Wake him up,” he ordered.

Tony came too minutes later, startled from the use of smelling salts. His while body was trembling, he could feel his fingers and legs shaking against the chair. He could feel sweat running from his hair into his eyes as he finally lifted his head up to face Ross, gritting his teeth from the effort. 

“Last chance Stark, where are they.”

Tony tried to think of something smart to say, something to delay them, but his brain wasn’t working, everything was mixed up, and was so tired. He shook his head weakly. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice gruff from his earlier screams.

Ross could sense his weakness. He clamoured around the table, got in Tony’s face. Tony’s head started to slump and he jerked it up roughly using a fistful of hair, grabbing his chin with the other hand, forcing Tony to face him. “Okay,” he snarled. “I think I actually believe you.”

Ross moved closer, their faces were only inches apart. “If you don’t know where they are; where do you think they could be?”

Tony faltered. He didn’t know where they had gone, for sure. But he had a good idea. He was going to tell Ross he didn’t know but he hesitated, wondering instead if he should make some destination up, delay him instead. He faltered, and Ross saw it. His smile grew across his face.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, quietly but quickly. “I – I have no id- they could be anywhere.”

“Yes they could.” Ross moved back. “But here you are.”

Tony looked away first, closed his eyes as another tremor ran through him. The soldier approached, held the Taser against the back of his neck, pushing is hard against his skin. Tony tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain. It didn’t come. Ross had his hand held up, holding the soldier off. Tony let out a shallow breath, knowing the reprieve wouldn’t last.

Ross moved back and sat on the corner of the table, looking down on him. “Tony. Why are you doing this? Barnes, this man murdered your father, your mother. You watched it happen.”

Tony screwed his eyes up again, trying to force the images of the video from his mind. “And Rogers, your friend. Your leader. He knew about this. He covered it up. He lied to you. He chose Barnes, over you. He chose his friend.”

Tony tried not to listen, but the words slithered into his mind like poison, infiltrating his body. Because Ross was right. Bares had killed his parents, murdered his mother. And Steve had known. He had lied. But Tony understood why. It was hard, he was hurt, but he understood why.

“Where do you think they’re hiding?”

Tony paused, then shook his head. He wouldn't turn them in. He wouldn't. He couldn't. “I don’t know.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you have a good idea of where they are. You’re going to tell me.”

“They aren’t hiding,” Tony said, mentally bracing himself. “Wherever they are, they aren’t hiding.” He gasped as another tremble ratted through him, and the soldier pressed the Taser even harder against the back of his neck. “They’re planning, wherever they are. They’ll come for you.”

Ross nodded to the soldier “Hit him again, longer this time.”

Tony braced himself, clenched his fists against the arms of the chair in anticipation. The soldier grabbed his hair, used it to pull his head against the Taser pressing into the back of his neck harshly. Just as the soldier was about to press the charge, the lights in the room went out.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave this on a bit of a cliff-hanger!
> 
> I will update next Sunday, or earlier, if possible.
> 
> Again, please leave comments, I love comments! And for the person who asked, this is a Team Tony fic :) x


	6. Chapter 6

_Tony braced himself, clenched his fists against the arms of the chair in anticipation. The soldier grabbed his hair, used it to pull his head against the Taser pressing into the back of his neck harshly. Just as the soldier was about to press the charge, the lights in the room went out._

*

The soldier released his grip on Tony, dropping the Taser onto the table as he quickly pulled his gun free of its holster. 

“What’s going on?” Ross barked. In the distance, a siren began to wail. 

The second soldier began to mumble into his radio but didn’t get a response.

“I’d say you were under attack,” Tony said, unable not to use the situation to try and provoke Ross further. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Shut up,” Ross spat. “You stay with Stark.” He pointed to the larger man, and then at the one who had just dropped the Taser. “Miller – you’re with me. Let’s go.”

“Sir, you need to stay here with Stark where we can protect you.”

“This is my RAFT and these are my prisoners and I’ll be damned if anyone tries to take them away! Come on,” he ordered, “I’ll have their blood god damnit!”

“Yes sir.”

Ross turned to look murderously at Tony. “He says anything or tries anything, you know what to do.” 

“Yes sir.”

Ross made it to the door but wasn’t able to resist one last threat. He stalked back over to Tony and grabbed a handful of his clothing, lifting him up from the chair slightly.  


“You’re friends try and save you, Johnson will put a bullet in your brain. Trust me Stark,” he shook the man in his grasp a little harder. “They don’t come to save you, then by the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll wish they had. Whatever happens, this won’t end well for you.”

He released Tony and stormed out of the room. As the door briefly opened, the smell of smoke filtered in. Tony was tired, so tired, but his adrenalin had started pumping too. Who was attacking the RAFT? That was pretty obvious. Would they come for him? Tony honesty didn’t know.

*

Clint frowned as the clear door to his cell slid open. This had never happened before, at least not without an armed escort waiting for him. He took a slow step outside of his room and noticed both Sam and Scott doing the same thing. They looked at each other tentatively, Scott wafting the smoke out of his face; sure was this was some kind of trap. 

“What the hell?” Sam asked cautiously.

A loud bang sounded behind them, making the men flinch. They turned around and started to step back wearily as two figures appeared through the smoke. 

Clint’s face broke into a wide grin. “Cap!” He greeted, hurrying over and slapping Steve on the shoulder before Wanda enveloped him into a long hug.

“What took you so long?” Sam joked as he and Steve shook hands.

“Don’t ask!”

“Lang,” Steve greeted Scott, who looked back at him once again awe struck.

“How did you get in here?” Scott asked, incredulous.

“That’s a long story. Let’s save it for another time, and focus on getting out.”

Wanda nodded, rubbing her neck where the collar had been. “I’ll not argue with that.”

“Ross is still here, he rushed past this morning. He’ll have a small army waiting for us.”

“I think I met half of them on the way in.” Steve paused as he rubbed his shoulder absently. “Like I said, let’s get out of here.” He glanced at his watch distractedly. “We only have four minutes before the surveillance kicks back in.” He paused, shifting his head to the side as he listened. “There are men coming up the left stairwell, that’s the quickest way out.”  


He looked at Wanda suggestively. he smirked, stretching her arms out and twisting her wrists, enjoying her freedom from the straight jacket. “I’ll deal with them.”

They moved towards the exit as a unit, Wanda leading, striding confidently, Steve just behind to her left. Sam and Scott followed, Clint hanging back, watching the rear. The armed soldiers charged into the room before the prisoners were able to reach the stairwell. They charged in raising guns and yelling orders. Lang flinched and crouched down to the floor, sure he would be shot, but within seconds the guns were all hovering in the air and then the soldiers were slamming into each other forcefully. The group jumped over the bodies that littered the floor and headed up the stairwell. More shouts sounded, coming up behind them, Steve glanced back worriedly. 

“Keep going,” Wanda ordered, “They won’t reach us.”

“You sure?” Lang asked, out of breath as he climbed the steps.

“I’m sure,” Clint grinned as he overtook Lang and then Steve, patting Wanda on the arm as he caught up with her.

“As am I,” she grinned.

*

More men were waiting for them at the exit point, bullets were fired and Sam yelled, sure they would be hit this time. But Wanda stepped forward, throwing her arms out, her face a picture of rage. The bullets appeared to hit an invisible barrier before they fired back at the soldiers blocking their path. When they finally made it to the exit point Steve paused to let them catch their breath.

“What now?” Scott asked. “Do we have time to go back for my suit?”

“Shut up man, we’re lucky to have made it this far,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Come on then Cap – how the hell do we get out of this place?”

“I have a boat waiting for us, it’s more like a submarine really. It’s in stealth mode, so Ross’ tech won’t see it.”

“Great!” Lang seemed pleased.

“Unless Stark has upgraded his tech,” Clint spat.

“Why would he do that?” Steve asked, but it sounded stupid even to him as he heard the words out loud. _Because I lied to him,_ he thought to himself. _Because I left him for dead._

“He and Ross are tight, I’ve seen him here twice since we were taken.”

Steve felt disappointment wash over him, that Tony would take his anger at him out on the team. “I don’t have time to think about Tony right now,” Steve said, not wanting to get distracted. “We need to go. We have a twenty foot jump into the ocean, and then a four mile swim to the boat.”

“What?” Lang yelled. “I’m scared of heights and I hate swimming.”

An explosion rattled above, making the entire group duck their heads.

“That’s the only way out.” Steve winced, “I left a few distractions on my way in; it should keep them off our tails a little while longer.”

“What if Stark’s waiting out there in a suit, ready to take us back in?”

“I’ll deal with him,” Wanda growled.

“That’s good enough for me,” Clint said, stripping off his shirt. “I take it we can all swim?” He asked as he rubbed his hands together, bracing himself.

Everyone nodded. “Come on then, team,” Steve said, seeming to relax slightly. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

Tony had started tapping his foot against the floor, he couldn’t help it. The sirens had stopped wailing a while ago and now it was eerily quiet. His neck still burned from the charges of the Taser and his body kept twitching as pain randomly spasmed through him. 

Who was attacking the RAFT? Steve, it had to be Steve. Would he come for him? Tony hoped he didn’t. He was still so angry, the last thing he needed was Rogers saving his sorry ass. No, he thought, as his anger built, if Steve came, he would refuse to join him. He had made his bed, he would lie in it; he would not go with Rogers, to hell with that.  


The door slammed open, startling Tony from his thoughts. How long had it been, since the RAFT had been infiltrated? An hour? Longer? He had no idea. He was still bristling with a combination of anger and exhaustion. He glared at the door, expecting Steve to walk in and release him from the chair. He half hoped it was Steve, so he could give him a piece of his mind. Instead he sighed as Ross stormed into his room, red faced. He strode over and lifted the table up, throwing it to the side of the room. Tony instantly felt vulnerable, more exposed, without the table between them. 

Ross was furious, that much was obvious. Whoever it was (. _Steve, you know it was Steve._ ), had obviously escaped with what they came for. He was almost disappointed in Steve – he didn’t want to be rescued, but it would have been nice to think Cap cared. Clearly, they were past any form of friendship now. Ross bent down to pick the Taser up that had clattered to the floor with the table. He put it in his jacket pocket and then strode over pulling his arm back before punching Tony square in the face. 

Tony’s head snapped back from the force, surprised, he hadn’t expected that. Tony took a moment to compose himself, running his tongue along his teeth and tasting blood. “I take it that was Rogers?” Tony said, still unable to back down, to cower away. “And I’m assuming he took your precious prisoners with him?”

Ross barked out a laugh before rushing in and punching his prisoner again, this time in the stomach. Tony doubled over as best as he could in the chair as he coughed from the force of the blow, it had taken his breath away. “Wow,” he said, still gasping for breath. “You are angry.”

“And you’re an idiot,” Ross screamed, getting in his face again. “Because they’re gone but you’re not. You better think about that!”

He moved in again to send another punch into Tony’s face, knocking his head to the side. Tony blacked out for a minute from the force of the hit. He blinked his eyes open and closed for a few moments before licking his cracked lips. Ross was enraged, but he took a step back to massage his knuckles.

“Shit!” He yelled, his fury only growing.

“Sir,” one of the soldiers tried to get his attention. Tony wondered if he was going to have a heart attack from the stress.

“Get out!” Ross yelled. “Both of you, get out!”

The soldiers hesitated for a second before complying. As the soldiers passed, Ross held his hand up to the second one, stopping him. He reached down and pulled the man’s baton from his thigh where it was strapped to his leg, before sending him on his way. 

Tony swallowed thickly as the two men left, the door closed behind them with certainty. Ross held the baton up as an angry smile, more of a grimace really, filtered onto his face. “Just you and me, Stark,” he spat. Tony watched the way the vein in his forehead bulged. “You’re going to tell me where Rogers has taken my prisoners.”

Tony shook his head. “Doesn’t the fact that they left me here prove to you that I’m not part of their little band of merry men?”

Ross brought the baton down on Tony’s shoulder, testing his new weapon. Tony yelled out at the bruising blow, unable to stop himself.

“Just you and me Stark,” Ross taunted, pressing it to the back of his head. “You will obey me.”

Tony was unable to stop the laugh that burst out from him, but it quickly turned into a cry as the baton slammed down against his shoulder once again.

“You can’t beat me,” Ross taunted, turning his fury at the break in onto his remaining captive.

“Yeah,” Tony grumbled, taking a pained breath before continuing. “Because this is a fair fight, you with your bat and me handcuffed to a chair.”

Ross took the bait, scrambling in his pockets for the keys before leaning over and releasing both of Tony’s wrists from the restraints. 

“Up, get up!” Ross screamed, and Tony realised this was a real opportunity. Ross was blinded by rage, this was his best chance at escape. He pushed himself up from the chair and was unable to stop the pained sound that escaped him. He stumbled backwards for a second before righting himself, his legs felt weak and unsteady beneath him. 

“Here,” Ross taunted, holding out the Taser. Tony flinched before realising that Ross was offering it to him. He reached out and took the small black object from him, looking hesitant, wondering just what Ross was thinking. 

“Come on then Stark. We’re both grown men, we’re both armed. Show me how strong you are without the suit.”

Deciding not to waste the opportunity, Tony lunged forwards, Taser in his outstretched arm. Ross was faster than he expected, the baton slammed into his arm knocking the Taser from his grip. It slid across the floor and Tony fell to one knee from the jarring blow to his arm.

“Come on, Stark,” Ross barked. “Get up.”

Tony pushed up from the floor, but Ross moved in quickly, bringing the baton down against his leg. Tony was unable to stop himself from collapsing to the floor, but he pushed himself back up to knees angrily, then paused as another spasm juddered through him.

“Come on, come on! Be a men and fight!” Ross taunted as he circled him. “No wonder Rogers left you, you’re pathetic,” he spat. He brought the baton down on his victims back, and Tony collapsed back down to the floor with a cry of pain. 

“Is this all you got?” Ross moved back to lean against the wall and watch as Tony, panting and sweating, slowly tried to scramble back to his feet. 

“Stark men are made of iron,” he said, mimicking a child’s voice. “Isn’t that what your father used to say?”

Tony saw red at the mention of his father. He didn’t know where the surge of strength suddenly came from, but he pushed up from the floor and charged at Ross, hell bent on hurting him, beating him, winning-

Ross was faster still, swiping out with the baton again. It cracked down against the side of Tony’s skull, he dropped to the floor instantly, his body thumping against the concrete, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Ross looked down at the still body on the floor, then dropped the baton. He wiped his arm against his forehead and noticed the sweat that stained his sleeve. His counted to ten and slowly calmed himself down, getting control of his anger. Rogers had broken his prisoners out, but he still had Stark, he could still make this work. But he needed him alive to do that. Christ, had he killed him?

He crouched down by the body carefully, mindful to avoid the puddle of bloody slowly seeping from the ugly gash in the side of his head, just above his ear. He reached out and felt for a pulse against the cold skin of his neck. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. 

He called out to the two soldiers who entered the room immediately. “Take him to the infirmary,” he ordered, nodding at the body by his feet. “Fix him up, no meds, then take him back to his cell.”

“Yes sir.”

Ross watched as the two men grabbed an arm each and dragged the man out of the interrogation room. 

“I need him alive,” he said, more as a reminder to himself.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not too happy with this chapter... but it is my longest one yet! And I hope people are still reading. Please let me know if you are!
> 
> Next chapter... more Tony v Ross, and we catch up more with the outlawed Avengers...
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	7. Chapter 7

Tony woke to find himself crumpled on the mattress in his grey cell with a splitting headache. He sat up and moaned as pain rolled through him, stiffness and bruising and his head-? He reached up to touch the site of the pain and felt some kind of padding over the wound. He probed it gently and felt swelling around the dressing. It was damp and when he pulled his fingers away they were moist with blood that had seeped through. 

He shuffled back against the wall and let his hand drop back to his lap. His stomach growled but he ignored it, trying to think through what had happened. He could remember the interrogation, or at least fragments of it. Ross screaming at him to get up; he could remembered, and the Taser. He shuddered as he gently touched the burns on his neck from the weapon, the skin was raised and blistered. He stilled as he remembered the smell of smoke - had it been a dream? Was Steve there? Realisation hit him suddenly as he remembered that Steve had been there, except he hadn’t, had he?

He felt anger rise up but he quickly swallowed it down. Now was not the time to think about Rogers, he had bigger issues to deal with. Ross was clearly becoming unhinged, the fact that he was treating him in such a way, blatantly hurting him – it worried Tony. But he knew people would notice his absence soon, surely; Rhodey, at least. He just had to hold on and hold out.

He grumbled to himself as he slowly climbed to his feet, having to stop and hold onto the wall for a moment as everything swayed and the ache in his head spiked suddenly. He took a few deep breaths and then began to pace the room once again. He had to stay mobile, had to stay fit. Ross was on edge; if the man gave him another opportunity, he had to make the most of it.

After only three laps of the small space the shrill beep sounded from other sound of the door. Tony startled before glancing up at the cameras. “Oh come on,” he muttered, half in frustration, half in fear as two soldiers stormed into the room. Once again Tony was ordered out of his cell and then manhandled down the steep staircase and into the interrogation room. His wrists were cuffed to the same metal chair and he winced as the metal rubbed against the skin that was already tight and aggravated.  
Ross walked into the room whistling, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. 

“Well you certainly look chipper today,” Tony quipped. Under no circumstances would he allow Ross to see his fear.

“And you look like shit,” Ross said as he pulled out a chair and made himself comfortable.

Tony sniffed his nose and screwed up his face. “I can admit I’m in dire need of a shower.”

Ross smiled again and then folded his hands together on the table. “How’s the head?” He asked lightly, the caring tone more indicative of the threat as he pointed to the thick wad of padding taped to Tony’s head, just above the left ear.

“How’s the blood pressure?” Tony said, looking equally concerned.

“Okay, let get down to business.”

Tony leaned forwards as much as he was able to in his chair. “I’m listening.”

Ross rubbed a hand against his chin. “I’m willing to believe that you don’t know where Rogers and his team of misfits are.”

“Hallelujah,” Tony muttered, Ross ignored him.

“I think you have a good idea of where he could be, but then, I can also make an educated guess myself. I don’t think we should waste any more time arguing about it.”

Tony nodded slowly. “I concur.”

“So instead, I want you to tell me about Clint Barton’s family.”

Tony went rigid in his seat. “What?” He asked coldly.

“Well, you won’t tell us where Rogers is. So we just need a bargaining chip, a motivator, if you like. When I have Barton’s family, they will come to me. It's easier than having to find them. Obviously,” Ross broke off to laugh, “obviously, they won’t come for you – hell they left you here already. But Barton’s family – they might be more valuable. Let’s see.”

Tony feigned surprise. “Barton has a family? I’m not buying it.”

“Tony,” Ross tutted. “I have you on CCTV telling Barton he should have thought about his family before he got involved. I’ll give you a moment to yourself, to get your story straight.”

Tony felt his blood run cold, because he had said that, he had mentioned Clint’s family, he hadn’t even paused to think about the consequences of saying so. And now Ross – shit. _Shit._

“So,” Ross drawled slowly, “where are they?”

Tony sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Seriously, that’s the best you can come up with?”

Tony knew how weak the lie was, but he didn’t know what else to do, he was cornered.

“Why not be a man at least, and admit you know.”

Tony swallowed hard, starring down at his hands, the skin starting to swell around the cuffs chaining him to the chair.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “He does have a family, and I do know where they are; but I refuse to give you any information. They’re innocent in all of this – leave them alone.”

Ross shook his head, grinding his teeth. “Tony,” he said slowly. “Look at the position you are in. Steve Rogers was here yesterday and he rescued everyone but you. Barton left with him. And you’re going to defend them, protect them, still?”

Tony just nodded. “I’m not doing it for them,” he said. _I’m doing it for me,_ he thought. _For my principles. Because it’s the right thing. Because Barton’s family did not deserve to get dragged into this._

Ross laughed. “You really are pathetic,” he snarled. “Do you think they’ll forgive you for this? Take you back? They won’t, Tony. Let me tell you that, they won’t. You’re on your own now.”

_Nothing new there,_ Tony thought.

“Fine, fine, if that’s the way you want to play it. If you change your mind, let me know.” Ross nodded to the two soldiers. “Take him to the interrogation area.”

Tony smirked. “That supposed to scare me?”

Ross stood up, towering over him. “Like I said, let me know when you change your mind.”

*

The journey to Wakanda took four days from the RAFT. T’Challa had transport waiting for them when they crossed the border, which the team had been grateful for, each one of them battling exhaustion and fatigue. They were taken to T’Challa’s compound, and escorted to their individual rooms where they were able to rest. The team marvelled as they passed through the facilities, following their escorts. 

“This place puts Stark Tower to shame,” Clint whispered to Wilson.

“And then some.”

That had been two days ago. They hadn’t seen or heard from T’Challa since their arrival, so Steve was pleased when he was finally summoned to meet with the King.  
He was taken to a room with a large table inside and nothing else. “King T’Challa will be along shortly,” their young escort addressed him meekly. 

Steve took a seat and waited patiently. T’Challa entered the room later with the same young aid as before. “Captain Rogers, it is a pleasure to see you made it back here safely. I apologise that matters have kept me away until now.”

Steve moved over and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your assistance, with the break out. And for offering us refuge here.”

“You are most welcome.” T’Challa looked towards his aid and nodded his head, the aid quickly left the room. “I asked you to meet me alone, Captain, as I have two people here who were able to cross the Wakandan border undetected yesterday, which is quite impressive. They came to the compound and then demanded an audience with you. They seemed most distressed.”

Rogers looked concerned. “Who is it?”

T’Challa didn’t need to answer. The aid opened the door and Romanoff stalked into the room looking nervous, Fury followed her in confidently. “Well, this is a fine mess you’ve got us into,” Fury snapped as he threw his hands onto his hips.

“What?” Steve was instantly defensive. “What are you doing here? How did you – what do you mean - I’ve done nothing but try and salvage this mess.”

“And a great job you’ve done of it too! Got four of your team mates locked up, managed to split the team clean in half; got shoot to kill orders out on yourself and Barnes. Need I go on?”

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” Steve replied hotly, “I did it because it was the right thing.”

“How?”

“The Accords were not the right way to handle things – you must know that.”

Fury pulled out a chair, rubbed a hand over his face. “I supported those Accords, Steve. They were the lesser of two evils, and much better than everything else the council suggested.”

“They were trying to control us.”

“Yeah, they were. But the Accords still gave us some control back. And they were amendable, that was the whole point. Get on side, appear agreeable and then make some changes so they meet everyone’s needs.”

“Exactly,” said Natasha, leaning on the back of Fury’s chair.

Fury looked to T’Challa. “You signed.”

“I did.” The King spoke slowly. “Like you, I did not think they were perfect, but they were needed. And they could be adapted, once in place. In my opinion it was better than nothing. But for me the Accords were always just a starting point, nothing more.”

Fury slammed a fist on the table with frustration. “Didn’t Stark tell you any of this?!”

“What?”

“I thought he’d have the sense to share my concerns with you.”

“When did you see Stark?” Rogers seemed almost angry. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Tony did support the Accords,” Natasha cut in. “He tried to get us all on side, but…”

“Did he tell you we were planning to make changes after it was signed off?”

Steve nodded. Fury seemed to grow even angrier, then he shook his head. “Right, forget it. It’s too late now. We need to work on damage control. Where the hell is Stark anyway, bring him here, we need him.”

Steve swallowed. “He isn’t here.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he’s working with Ross to try and arrest me and he’s hell bent on killing Bucky.”

Fury shook his head, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about your Winter Soldier friend right now Rogers, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“So you two still haven’t worked things out?” Natasha asked, disappointed.

“He let Clint, Wilson, Wanda and Lang be taken to the RAFT and he tried to kill Bucky. So no, we haven’t worked things out.”

“Look, I know all about the RAFT, General Ross’ personal play place. But you got the others out. Now where’s Stark? We need him here too if we stand even a chance of fixing this mess.”

“You don’t know?” T’Challa seemed surprised.

“I haven’t seen him since we last met about the Accords weeks ago, before the shit really hit the fan,” Fury snapped.

“Miss Romanoff?”

Natasha shrugged. “I last saw him was at the hospital, with Rhodey. I warned him to watch himself with Ross, he warned me the same. We weren’t on the friendliest terms, after I let you go at the airfield,” he nodded to Steve guiltily.

“And you haven’t heard from him since?” Fury tried to clarify, nodding to Steve.

Steve looked down at his hands. “Not since Siberia. I sent him a letter, with a phone, so he could contact me if he needed to. It was supposed to smooth things over, an olive branch, at least. Obviously he hasn’t called.”

“Did you really expect him to?” Natasha shook her head at him. 

“So nobody’s seen him since Siberia,” Fury sighed. “Great. Nat, tell them what you told me on the way here. I think you may be right.”

Natasha took a breath as she ordered her thoughts. “There have been no reports of Tony in the news since Siberia, nothing about his involvement in the search for Cap and the others. No comments or soundbites about the Accords. There was one report of him attending a gala in New York five days ago, but I don’t buy it. Either that’s somebody trying to make it look like Tony is out and about, or its some company trying to drum up interest in their gala. Two search and seize warrants were granted for both the tower and the compound, over the last week. Why would they do that if Ross and Stark were still on friendly terms?”

T’Challa looked serious. “I must admit I am curious.”

“I think he’s in the RAFT. I’ve tried to get in touch with Friday, she’s offline. Not many people would be able to do that to Friday. Rhodey’s still in hospital, Vision hasn’t been seen since the fight at the airfield, so I found Fury. Something serious is going on.”

Steve shook his head. “Maybe Stark shut Friday down himself, went off the map to take a break. He could do with it.”

Fury looked incredulous. “You believe that crap?”

Steve bit his lip. “No, I don’t. Something’s wrong.”

“If Tony was still after you and Bucky, we’d know it by now, he’d have found you by now. If he was still trying to help, we’d also know it by now because he would have found you before now. Something’s off.”

“Clint said he saw Tony there, in the RAFT, twice. It didn’t look like he was being held against his will. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I need to speak to Clint,” Natasha said, before hurrying from the room.

“Captain,” T’Challa spoke softly. “You were on the RAFT just days ago. Did you not see Mr Stark at all?”

Steve shook his head. “If he was there, he wasn’t where the others were being held.”

“Well, we need to find out if he is there. And if he is, we need to get him out.”

“This could be a trap,” T’Challa warned. “And they will be more prepared for another infiltration. They were successfully attacked just days ago. The area will be more secure, even if he isn’t there.”

“They won’t be expecting another break in so soon, especially when you came and tookexactly what you wanted last time,” Fury looked at Steve pointedly as he spoke. “Barton and the others, were they hurt, when they were held there?”

Steve shook his head. “No. Clint was questioned extensively, but that was it. The others were left completely alone.”

“That doesn’t offer me any great comfort,” Fury cut in. “They don’t have the same kind of information Tony has.”

“You think the Secretary of Defence would risk hurting such a public figure?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past the General,” T’Challa warned. “He is a desperate man.”

Steve swallowed hard. “If Tony is on the RAFT, against his will... then we have to go and get him.”

“It won’t be easy.”

Steve sighed. “I didn’t expect anything else.”

*

Ross waited outside the door to Stark’s new home and beckoned the two guards to his side after they had thrown their prisoner inside. Ross examined the bruises on the knuckles of his right hand for a moment and the guards waited patiently. 

“He has a lot of information in that head of his, and I want it all. We’ll start off with Barton’s family, but I doubt he’ll give anything up on that. When he’s sufficiently weakened we will move onto other, more important topics.”

The soldiers nodded.

“I’ve got some business to attend to, so I won’t be back until later this afternoon. Go in there and go in hard. Nothing fancy, just fists and feet, yes?”

The soldiers nodded again.

“Good. Make a mess of him. Beat him up and string him up. I’ll be along later.”

“Yes sir.”

*

The guards had all but thrown Tony into the new room, he stumbled but managed to catch his footing before hitting the floor. He was surprised they didn’t follow him in. The door closed behind him, he was left alone. 

He looked around, the room was pretty similar to the last one, there was a single chair in one corner, and a steel table pushed against one wall. The room was a perfect square shape, and larger, Tony thought, as he looked up to the two wall mounted cameras. The ceiling was not as high, and Tony noticed the steel bar set into the wall, just below the ceiling, running the length of the room. He felt his stomach tighten as he noticed the steel piping jutting out from the lower wall in one corner of the room. Great, he thought, knowing exactly what that would be used for. His stomach clenched again as he noted the three drains that had been drilled into the floor. He knew exactly what they were for, too. _Fantastic._ He paced around the small room as best as he could with his hands cuffed tightly behind his back, trying to run off some of his nervous energy. 

It didn’t matter - he wasn’t alone for long.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone, and thanks for all of the wonderful comments! I really appreciate it, and as always, I’d appreciate your comments again, they keep me going!
> 
> Apologies that this is a day late, I usually write over the weekend and post it on a Sunday evening, but I was quite unwell this weekend. But here is it, just a day late; and I should hopefully be on track to get the next update out on Sunday.
> 
> What can I say, things aren't going to get any easier for Tony :(
> 
> Keep reading and keep commenting, please!


	8. Chapter 8

Tony came too feeling disorientated and sluggish, he looked around trying to get his bearings and realised he was still hanging from his arms from the piping sitting just below the ceiling. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to drop back down as pain thrummed through him. He opened his eyes and squinted as one struggled to open at all from the swelling. He tilted his head to see if he was alone and gasped with relief as he realised he was, for now.

His arms ached and pulled and he stretched his legs out as much as possible and managed to just about stand on the end of his toes. The floor was cold beneath his feet and he realised the pumps they had given him earlier were gone. He groaned again and coughed, trying to stop himself as it only caused his bruised and broken ribs to hurt further.  


His nose felt stuffed, _probably broken,_ he thought, and then flinched as he remembered the way the two soldiers had advanced upon him, throwing him to the ground and then kicking him over and over, seeming to aim mostly for his face and torso. His eyebrow felt thick and heavy and he was sure one of the heavy boots had split the skin open, judging from the blood that seemed to be drying around his swollen eye. He wanted to itch it, scratch the blood away, but with his hands cuffed together, held above his head by the thick chain, it was impossible. He moved his neck forwards and rubbed his head back and forth against his arm as best as he could in the restraints. 

The soldiers hadn’t asked him anything, clearly Ross wanted to do the questioning; they were just hired muscle. It made it easier, in a way, knowing they didn’t expect anything from him. They were going to hurt him regardless, they didn’t want his information, yet. His legs started cramping from the stretch and so he let the weight go back onto his arms, wincing again as he felt the muscles pulling, stretching. How long had he been hanging here, he wondered? From the way the blood seemed to crack on his face when he squeezed his eyes shut, he was assuming a while. He closed his eyes, breathing heaving through his mouth, trying to block the pain out. 

“Just an ass kicking,” he whispered to himself, “nothing you can’t handle.” He closed his eyes again, taking himself back to the leg braces he would make for Rhodey when he got out. He thought about the knee joints, how he would need to ensure the structure-

The door opened, Tony felt his heart beat speed up. “Just an ass kicking,” he repeated to himself quickly, “nothing you can’t handle.”

Ross stalked into the room, lit cigar in the corner of his mouth, a smile on his face. Tony swallowed as the same two guards followed him into the room, standing on each side of the door waiting for orders.

“Was beginning to think you’d forgot about me,” Tony stated, voice low and weak as he glared at Ross as best as he could with his bleeding and swollen face, hanging from the ceiling like some twisted display.

Ross laughed, then took a long pull of the cigar before approaching. He got up close to Tony’s face and prodded the clotting wound over his eyebrow. Tony couldn’t help but hiss.  
“Looks like my guys did a number on you,” he tutted, blowing the smoke into his face. “I think that might scar.”

Tony tried to shrug out of habit but stopped himself when he remembered the position he was currently held in. “I’ll learn to live with it.”

“Will you?” From his position, with his hands held tightly above his head, Tony’s stained sweater had ridden up, showing off his lower stomach. Ross grabbed the hem of the material and lifted it up, exposing his stomach and chest. Tony tried not to squirm as he ran a hand over some of the bruises littering his body before dropping the material again and patting Tony on the leg. 

“I want to know where Barton’s kids are.”

“Go to hell.”

Ross sighed, then pulled out the Taser from his jacket pocket. He sighed dramatically. “Must we go through this again?” He asked.

Tony gritted his teeth. “Go to hell, Ross.”

“Fair enough.”

Ross wasted no time pressing the Taser against Tony’s lower stomach, where the material had ridden up once again. He pressed the trigger and counted to ten before releasing it, watching the way Tony jerked in his chains, eyes squeezed shut, a loud moan coming out through his clenched teeth, as much as Tony tried to prevent it, it was impossible.  
Ross stood back and watched as Tony panted for breath, head lolling against his chest. 

“Shall we go again?”

Tony shook his head. _No._

“Do you want to give me an answer?”

Tony didn’t raise his head, he just shook it again as he tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming. _No._

*

It felt like hours before Ross finally left him alone in the room, still hanging in his chains. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, which seemed to be dripping off of his entire body, mixing with the blood staining his clothing. His body continued to jerk and spasm randomly in the chains. He kept his eyes shut, head lolling down, the position strained his neck but he didn’t have the strength to hold it up. 

The smell of burnt flesh from the Taser reached him and he retched, the action straining his ribs further, until the feeling passed. He could hear a humming noise and realised it was him, breathing heavily through his mouth, his nose still too stuffed with blood.

How many times had Ross zapped him with his toy? Tony had lost count. Everything got blurry after they brought the smelling salts back out, to stop his passing out from getting in the way of the questioning. He gasped as another shudder rippled through him, making him lose the frail grip his toes had on the floor. He gave in and left himself hang, swinging slightly, as he wearily tried to sleep, to pass out; to be granted some form of reprieve. His arms had gone numb, that was something, at least.

“Just an ass kicking,” he reminded himself before he slowly passed out.

*

Ross was slightly concerned when he stormed back into the cell hours later and Tony didn’t rouse in his chains. He moved over and lifted Tony’s head up with a fistful of hair. His face was bloodied and bruised and slack, the man wasn’t faking it. Ross roughly felt for a pulse and was pleased to find it strong and steady.

He grinned to his two men and ordered them to cut him down. He checked his phone as the soldiers released the chain connecting Tony to the pipe – carefully grabbing him before he hit the floor. 

“Where do you want him?” they asked. Ross watched as they moved him over to the chair, his body like a limp puppet, rolling about in their grasp. The chair wasn’t bolted down like in the interview room, so Ross had them move him over the drain before he eyed the items the men had brought in and laid out on the table. Tony’s back was to it, Ross didn’t want him to see. He wasn’t trying to scare him, he just wanted to hurt him.

A soldier held the cuffs they had released their prisoner from questioningly. 

“Just cuff one arm to the chair,” he barked. “And wake him up, quick.”

Tony was startled as the salts once again snapped him to awareness. He jumped and jerked in the seat, one of the soldiers used a strong hand to keep him seated in the chair. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to nap when you have guests?”

Tony snorted. “You’re supposed to be hosting me,” he said, his voice raspy. He hated how weak it sounded. “And you’re not very good at it.”

Ross nodded. “You have one last chance Stark.” Back to business, already. “The names and locations of Barton’s family. You will regret it, if you don’t. And if you do, I’ll go easy on you. Give you a night off. Maybe that shower you wanted.”

Tony grinned. “Shower’s not really that high on my list of priorities right now.”

Ross nodded. “Okay.” He checked his phone again, grinned slowly as he read the information on his screen out loud. “Laura. Cooper. Lila. And the baby.” Tony felt what little strength he had drain from his body. “I wanted you to confirm the accuracy of this information, but the look on your face already has.”

Tony shook his head softly, trying to think of something to say, anything.

“I wanted this from you Tony, four names, that’s all. But you wouldn’t give it me. So I’m going to take something else from you instead.”

Tony frowned, then yelped as his head was suddenly whipped back from a punch he hadn’t seen coming. Then the soldiers were on him, one behind him, yanking his head back, the other in front, trying to force something into his mouth. He coughed then choked as a piece of wood was wedged between his back teeth on one side of his mouth. He raised a hand to try and pull it away but then somebody was pulling his arm away in a bruising grip. He looked up and saw the glint of metal and they were forcing something into his mouth. His head was tilted right back, forcing him to stare up at the bright light as he fought back from whatever it was they were going to – and the pain hit.

Red hot pain, in his mouth, shooting up through his face. Tony flailed as best as he could, tried to shake his head out of the soldiers grip, and screamed. And screamed. And screamed. The soldier wasn’t quick with the pliers, they held the tooth but didn’t just pull it out, instead puling it from side to side, pushing it backwards and forwards, and Tony went limp, no longer able to fight, he had nothing to give but the long howl of pain and distress that he couldn’t control. He alternated between biting down on the wood holding his mouth open, and opening his mouth as wide as possible to try and escape the metal pliers forcing his tooth up and down, the bone grating against the exposed nerve. 

Then suddenly it was out and the hole was spurting blood into his mouth and the wood was removed. The soldiers released their grip on his head and neck and he heard the pliers clatter against the floor as he fell forwards, coughing up blood and then vomiting, right down himself, before he lay back in wearily in the chair, only semi-conscious, pain thrumming through his mouth and face, his body shaking from the shock of the attack. He leaned forwards to spit out more blood and couldn’t help but moan pathetically.

“That’s a big one.” Ross held the tooth out between his index finger and thumb as he smiled at Tony. 

Tony touched the hole in his mouth his tongue gently, and instantly regretted it as he felt the size of it. He leaned forward to throw up again, getting most of it on this floor this time, but his clothes were still soiled from the first bout. He didn’t think he’d had anything in him to throw up, he’d been wrong.

“That’s number one. For Laura. Three more, we agreed, didn’t we?” Ross couldn’t hide the sheer joy from his voice, clearly enjoying the show.

Tony looked up, realising the meaning of Ross’ statement as the soldiers approached again. The man to his front had the pliers again, they were stained with his blood. “No,” Tony grunted, backing away as much as he could in the chair. “No, don’t,” he yelped as his head was yanked back. He wasn’t able to say anything else as the wooden chew was jammed back between his teeth and then everything went grey and he could focus on nothing but the sound of his own screams as a second tooth was removed, one which had resided next to the one he had already lost.

He remembered falling forward in the chair and the soldier dragging him back up by the scruff of his neck. He remembered his face being wet with tears after he finished spitting up more blood and bile, the floor was covered. He was filthy. He blacked out for a moment, but not for too long, the smelling salts helped with that. His stomach lurched as he came too and he could smell urine. He felt his face heat with shame as he realised his bladder had emptied itself at some point during the ordeal.

When he was finally able to raise his head slightly, without feeling sick from the overwhelming pain thrumming in his face, Ross was standing before him, both hands splayed out wide, a tooth sitting in each palm. He made a show of putting them in his inside pocket. “Let’s say that’s for the baby. Now, you still have two more kids to pay for.” 

The soldiers approached again and Tony felt his body physically tremble as he looked for some way out of the chair, the room, this hell his life had suddenly become. “Wait, please,” he panicked, unable to help the desperation in his voice - he was desperate.

Ross held up a hand this time, making the soldiers pause. “Do you have something to say? Maybe you want to tell me their location? Maybe you can keep the rest of your teeth if you give me their location.”

Tony felt his heart sink. Because he couldn’t. _He couldn’t._ They were innocent. 

“Thought so.”

Then his head was being yanked back again and his legs were kicking against the floor and he managed to get out a strangled “wait” before the wood was thrust into his mouth, and Ross nodded. The soldiers released their grip on him, he slumped into the chair with relief.

Ross took note as Tony detailed three possible locations, three different safe houses they had access to. The two soldiers took off with the information, Ross lingered behind.  
“If this is false information…” He didn’t need to finish the threat. 

“They should be in, one of those locations.” Speech was difficult, it hurt, his mouth, it literally throbbed. 

“They’d better be.” Ross moved forwards, kicked the chair out from beneath him. Tony fell to the floor, still cuffed to the chair with one wrist, it clattered to the concrete besides him. He lifted his head up to watch Ross leave the room, before collapsing back against the floor, too exhausted to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thanks for all of the lovely comments! As last weeks post was a day late, I thought it only fair that this weeks be a day early! I'm already half way through the next chapter too, so if I get enough comments I should be able to post within a few days :)
> 
> Things are still rough for Tony, and if the next chapter is anything to go by, its going to get worse. But things should improve eventually... I hope!
> 
> As always thank you for taking the time to read, and please, please, please comment!


	9. Chapter 9

Somebody entered the room later, Tony tensed as the door opened and footsteps approached, expecting more pain. He wasn't sure how long he'd been left undisturbed. Instead the visitor placed a bowl of food on the floor and left him alone. Tony lifted himself up slightly, eyed what looked like porridge in the bowl, placed a foot away from him, and carefully laid himself back on the floor, curled in on himself as best as he could with his arm still cuffed to the chair laid on its side. He knew he should eat, should keep his strength up, but he couldn’t. Everything hurt, his face throbbed from the extraction of his teeth, and his body continued to tremble and shake periodically. He closed his eyes, wondering how far Ross had got with his search. Not long, and they’d be back for him, he knew it. He drifted away once again, praying he’d find himself anywhere else but here when he came around. 

He didn’t. Instead he found himself face to face with a furious Ross who pulled him up with two fistfuls of his sweater before pushing him back to the floor, the chair clattering with him. 

“Get that cuff off him”, he ordered before moving away, kicking the food bowl against the wall as he passed it. He took a breath, trying to keep his anger in check, and reached into his pocket and pulled another cigar out, he put it in his mouth unlit as he watched his two men pull Stark to his feet. They moved away and the man wavered, started to fall, his men swooped in and grabbed an arm each to force him upright. 

Ross looked him up and down as Tony refused to meet his eyes, knowing he was in trouble.

“So the locations didn’t check out. All empty. I’m not surprised.”

“They are genuine SHIELD safe houses,” Tony tried. “I thought they’d be there.” 

“Sure you did. But no, they are _former_ safe houses, there’s the difference.” Ross pulled out his silver lighter and lit the cigar, taking a long, long pull. 

“I didn’t know they were former, you know I don’t work for SHIELD,” Tony tried.

“I don’t believe you,” Ross paced, getting angrier. “I think you knew they were abandoned houses and you were just trying to buy yourself some time. For what, I’m not sure. Nobody is coming for you.” He paused, looked down and sighed. “I told you you’d regret it, if the information didn’t come through. I would like to think that I’m a man of my word.” He took another drag of the cigar, then walked over to the wall by the table and stubbed it out. He put the cigar on the table and then played with the lighter in his hands, clicking the flame on and off as he continued to look Tony up and down, before a small smile seemed to grow.

“Get him over here,” he ordered, and the soldiers dragged him over, despite Tony’s attempts to struggle, dragging his feet against the floor. He didn’t know what Ross was going to do, but it would be bad for him, whatever it was. He knew that much. 

The men released him and then Ross had his arm twisted up behind his back, the one he had been wearing in a sling a week ago, using it to force his upper body against the metal table, his cheek pushing against the surface as Ross continued to twist his arm further, pushing it as far as it would go.

“I told you you’d regret it,” he whispered in Tony’s ear, “I’ve got to do this.” Tony grunted and tried to shift but Ross’ grip on his arm was too strong, pushing it higher and higher. It was still sore from his fight with Barnes, then the hours he had spent hanging from the ceiling. He started to moan as it was raised higher up his back, his arm was pulling, too tight, it was going to- 

The crack seemed to echo around the room and then he couldn’t hear what else Ross was whispering to him over his own yells as the pain radiated up and down his arm and shoulder. Ross released his limb and he felt it dangle by his side, useless. But Ross wasn’t finished. He moved to place his hand on the back of Tony’s neck, keeping his cheek pushed flush against the table, and Tony was surprised once again by how strong the man was. His stomach rolled at the pain in his arm, he didn’t dare try and fight Ross off with his free hand, scared the man would break his other arm too. 

“A promise is a promise Tony,” Ross sing-songed in his ear. “Tell me where they are and this will all be over.”

Tony groaned some more but didn’t give an answer, not sure he could even speak if he had been willing. Ross tightened the grip on the back of his neck, crushing his cheek against the table, and Tony was thankful this wasn’t the side of his mouth currently missing two teeth. He stilled as he heard Ross’ lighter click on and off, as he had done earlier as he had stared at him.

“Do you remember,” Ross said softly, lips almost touching his ear. “When you kicked me out of that bar, all those years ago?” He laughed and clicked the lighter on and off again. Tony tried to move, but his entire upper body was pressed flat against the table, and his legs were too weak to even try and kick out. “You humiliated me.” Ross lit the lighter. “I swore I’d get you back one day.” He held the flame of the lighter against Tony’s ear. “And here were are. I guess that’s called karma.”

Tony jerked and one of the soldiers moved in to help hold him down against the table as the flame licked at the delicate skin of his ear. Tony cried out as the skin began to burn and then the lighter was removed. Tony panted for breath, struggling to breath with the position they had forced him into, his arm still jolting stabbing sensations through him when he tried to move. “Tell me where they are.”

Tony mumbled something, he wasn’t aware of what he was saying, but it clearly wasn’t an acceptable answer, because the heat was suddenly back. Ross was still talking to him, promising him he was causing himself this pain, and he could stop it, if only he told them where the family were hiding. Tony could barely hear him over his screams as his ear burned and burned and burned.

Suddenly Tony became aware that the hand on the back of his neck had gone. Ross had moved away, the lighter left on the table in his eye line, still presenting a threat. The table was wet beneath his face and he realised he had been sobbing from the pain. His ear still burned, hot and blistering, and Tony wasn’t sure they had really stopped. His screams turned into a low grown and then his heavy breathing was all he could hear as his chest panted heavily.

The soldier holding him up against the table released his grip too and stepped back, and then Tony felt himself moving, falling, completely unable to hold himself up; and he collapsed into a heap on the floor. Ross was speaking, but he wasn’t sure if it was to him, or to the soldiers. He reached his functioning arm up to his ear and started gipping as the he felt the soft flesh soft move between his fingers. 

Then everything started to sway and he realised the soldiers were moving him, dragging him by his arms, and he was crying out again, voice hoarse, desperately trying to twist himself in their grip to relieve the pressure on his broken arm. The pain was too much, he blacked out, but of course, they woke him again. His arms were brought in front of him and Tony gasped, shuddering as the handcuffs were placed around his wrists. One soldier reached out for the chains and suddenly Tony was crying again, begging them not to string him back up, not by his arms, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t-

The chain was connected and his arms were raised and he was retching again from the pain, but the pressure stopped when he was on his knees, arms raised up above him fully stretched, straining his arm, pulling the broken bone and flesh; but they weren’t raised any higher, he was allowed to remain stretched out on his knees, rather than hang, like before. Ross patted his head gently, before prodding the burnt ear, causing another broken scream. “It’s okay, Tony,” Ross soothed. “You’re nearly there, you’re nearly ready; I can tell.” 

Tony shook his head but felt another sob escape him. 

“I’ll leave you like this, as a gesture of goodwill,” Ross continued, indicating Tony’s position on his knees. “Say ‘thank you,’ Tony,” he mocked, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to face him, his eyes wet and rapidly blinking; looking wild and desperate. 

“Thank you,” Tony whispered, closing his eyes.

Ross slapped his cheek before releasing his head. “There you go, you’re already getting better at following orders. It’s like I said,” he grinned as he moved over to the table to collect his lighter. He clicked it on and watched the flame for a moment before blowing it out. “You’re nearly there. Don’t worry, all this will be over soon.”

Tony was left alone, his head dropped, tears still streaming from his eyes as he tried to block out the pain, each injury fighting for attention. He couldn’t stop the sobs, he was scared, and desperate; because he knew Ross was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kind comments! Two chapters in one weekend, my personal best!  
> I've really put Tony through the ringer, but things are going to start improving soon, I promise!  
> Once again thanks for reading, and please, PLEASE comment! :) x


	10. Chapter 10

Time passed. Tony didn’t know how long he had been held, the days and hours seemed to blur together. The soldiers came and went, cutting him down then stringing him back up, hurting him in between when he was unable or unwilling to answer Ross’ varied questions. The room stank, even with his bloodied and blocked nose Tony could smell it, and he tried to think about it, focus on it, the rancid stench, to stop his thoughts from going back to Ross and his questions. 

_Questions, questions, questions._

Ross wanted information from his head, and he had started talking. Just nuggets, half-truths, anything to try and delay the pain. Delay it until what, he didn’t know. Until Ross put him out of his misery? Maybe. He didn’t know how long that would take.

He woke later, choking, and panicked, were they trying to drown him? The hand forcing water down his throat pulled away suddenly, and Tony gasped for breath, coughing up some of the liquid, then steadied himself as the guard pushed the beaker back against his lips, holding his head up by his hair, forcing his head back. Tony couldn’t help but drink thirstily, he hadn’t eaten in days, and the cool liquid eased his throat which felt raw, raw from the screaming, he knew. 

The man pulled the drink away and Tony gasped for breath again, still struggling with consciousness. He felt the grip on his hair leave and his head dropped back down, he didn’t have the strength to hold it up. He hung weakly, forced onto his knees, arms once again held high above him in the cuffs attached to the chains. He didn’t even consider the state his wrists must be in. 

He closed his eyes, still breathing heavily, trying to prepare himself. Ross was coming, he knew. They usually prepped him before he arrived, to make sure he was lucid enough for the next round. He tried to take slow, deep breaths, his chest aching and straining as he did so, the bones bruised and possibly broken. He heard the footsteps approaching, tried to calm himself, to be strong. He had to keep holding on. Had to. 

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he whispered to himself as the guards released his hands from the cuffs holding him up. He dropped to the floor in silence, no longer able to hold himself up; his legs too week, his arms numb, thankfully numb, the pain of his broken arm forgotten, for a while at least. 

“Jesus,” Ross exclaimed, “it stinks in here, I can’t work in these conditions.” He pointed to the first guard, then nodded his head at the man laid in a heap on the cell floor, not moving other than the slow inhale and exhale of his chest. “Clean him up.”

Tony heard the words, but didn’t make sense of them until he felt the water, cold and hard, spraying against his body, drenching him in seconds. The guards hosed him down then kicked him onto his back to spray his front down too. Tony gasped and scrunched his face up as he tried to turn away from the water, it stung his wounds but the guards kicked him back over to make him face it. They sprayed the floor around him, then the chair and the table, washing away his blood, his vomit. Tony watched as the pink stained water swirled towards the drain and dripped away. He wanted to follow it.

“That’s better,” Ross said, and then Tony was moving, being dragged back towards the chair, and he gasped and whimpered, unable to stop himself until he was seated, shaking and dripping, soaked through, hunched down in the chair, subconsciously trying to make himself appear small, less of a target, as Ross watched him hungrily.  
Tony stared at him wearily, waiting. They had given him water, so they still wanted to keep him alive. That was something, he supposed.

“Don’t you look a sight for sore eyes?” Ross laughed as he lit up a cigar. “Tony Stark, what would the world think if they saw you now?”

Tony just shrugged. He looked down at his hands, they were cuffed to each arm of the chair again. _When had that happened?_ He blinked again as he realised Ross was still speaking to him.

“What would your little team think, if they knew you had been spilling secrets?”

Tony screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “They aren’t my team,” he mumbled.

“That’s right, they left you here, didn’t they?”

Tony looked down at his hands, ignoring the taunts. Rise above it, he warned himself, don’t give him what he wants.

“Well, let’s get back to business. You were quite cooperative yesterday, I hope that’s going to continue.”

Tony closed his eyes again, remembering the information he had given up. _Farm, they live on a farm!_ He had screamed, pleaded, begged Ross to believe him.

Ross took another long pull on the cigar, Tony stared down at his lap, noticed the hole in the material over his right knee, the skin peeking through was grazed and dirty.  
Suddenly Ross was leaning over him, uncomfortably close, holding up a glass to him, a tumbler of brown liquid – scotch? Ross nodded his head to him then downed the drink. “Cheers,” he muttered, before ambling over to the table, and picking up the almost full bottle of liquid. The pliers were still on the table, still bloodied, next to the lighter, 

Tony could see it out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head slightly, willing himself not to think about the objects and the pain they could inflict. 

Ross held the bottle out to Tony, shaking it slightly. “I know this is your favourite drink. Or, well, was. So, I wanted to reward you, for your hard work yesterday. You deserve a drink,” he laughed.

He held the bottle out, mocking, and Tony continued to just stare down at the hole in his sweatpants. 

“Oh,” he motioned to the cuffs, Tony followed his gaze, and tried not to look at the fingers on his left hand, all broken and crooked and bloody. “I forgot, how rude of me! Guys, can you help me out?”

The soldiers were on him instantly, adapting the same position as when they had ripped his teeth out, one wrenching his head back from behind, the other digging his fingers into his jaw, forcing the wooden wedge between his teeth, forcing his mouth open. For a second he began to panic, thinking they were going to remove another tooth, but then Ross was stood to his side, bottle tipped up, forcing the liquid down his throat. 

Tony swallowed as fast as he could, trying to keep up with the amount of liquid burning a path down his throat. There was too much and he coughed, starting to choke again as he couldn’t keep up with the amount. Ross pulled the bottle away until his coughing fit had subsided. Then the bottle was back in his mouth, the glass clanking against his teeth, before the liquid was back and he was struggling to keep up with it again. He started to cough and Ross pulled the bottle away, nodded to the two soldiers who released him. Tony leaned forward in the chair, coughing and spluttering and fighting for breath.

Ross took a quick drink directly from the bottle before replacing the lid and leaving it back on the table, almost empty. He wandered back over to Tony and he leant back in the chair, breathing deeply and fighting the urge to vomit. Ross swiped at his chin with a finger, wiping off a stray dribble of the liquid and sucked it off his finger.

“This is good stuff Stark, you shouldn’t waste it.”

Tony straightened himself up in the chair and glared at Ross before another cough forced its way out, making him grimace as it pulled at his ribs. Ross grabbed a fistful of hair to pull him back up in the chair.

“You’re not paying attention Tony,” he muttered, before slapping his cheek twice. “Pay attention. Because now you’ve had your reward, the work starts again.”

Tony sighed, blinked twice, still exhausted, the alcohol making him feel tired along with the burn in his stomach. “What now,” he asked, head lolling back into the side, he was struggling to hold it up.

Ross smirked before pulling the Taser back out of his pocket. He shook it in his hand before stalking back over to the table and grabbing his lighter. He held one in each hand. “You get to choose Tony,” he grinned, “what will it be?”

Tony closed his eyes, defeated.

“Or you can talk. Talk to me about Banner.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open. “What about Bruce?” He suddenly feet energised. He would not let this man get to Bruce; _never._

“Where is he?”

Tony started to laugh, gently, scared of movement, knowing it would hurt, but he sniggered all the same. “I thought you had done your homework,” he groaned. “Clearly not.”  
Ross crossed his arms as a frown flitted onto his face. “What do you mean?”

“The Hulk scarpered after Ultron, took off in a stealth plane from Sokovia. Nobody’s seen or heard from him since.”

“You expect me to believe that he left you to take the blame for the Ultron mess?” He smiled slowly as he saw the look on Tony’s face, then broke out into a deep laugh. “Oh my God,” he laughed, “you’re telling me the truth. He did take off!”

Tony shook his head, then nodded. 

“It doesn’t mean you can’t find him.”

“What?”

“I’m sure you’ve searched for him, know where he is, have that computer of yours keeping an eye out on him.”

Tony shook his head. “I respected his privacy.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. But I don’t believe you.”

He flicked the lighter up, watched the orange flame as it grew.

“Well, I’m telling you the truth, I can’t help you.”

“I’m sorry Tony, but you’re going to have to convince me.”

He nodded at the soldiers, and Tony began to fight against the cuffs restraining him to the chair as Ross approached.

*

Clint continued to fasten the laces of his boots, ignoring the figure leaning against the doorway of his room.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?”

Clint looked up briefly then turned his attention to this second boot. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Yeah, you are. I thought we were still friends.”

Clint sighed. “We are, I’m just pissed off.”

“With me?”

Clint slapped his hand against his leg. “With all of this! I can’t believe we’re going back to the RAFT, willingly, when we all know it’s probably a trap, and I only just got out of there.”

“If Tony’s there, he needs our help.”

“You don’t get it!” He snapped. “Stark was there, he was there and he was fine, he’s still playing the part of Ross’ puppet! I don’t know why you would think he’s in trouble.”

“He hasn’t been seen in weeks, other than a supposed gala appearance, when he’s supposedly working to hunt down Steve? That doesn’t sound strange to you? ”

“Look,” Clint rubbed a hand over his face wearily before picking up his bow and beginning to inspect it. “Tony’s fine, he always look after himself.”

“Why are you mad at him? You chose to get involved, you didn’t even read the situation before jumping in.”

“I got involved because Cap needed me.”

“I needed you!”

“You didn’t call,” he snapped. “Cap did.”

Natasha moved to sit next to him on the bed, but Clint still wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t call you, because I didn’t want to get you mixed up in this. I was trying to protect you.”  
Clint sighed. “Look, I don’t want to get involved with this anymore than I already am. But Stark-“

“Tony did what he thought was the right thing. Like I did. Fury agreed with us.”

“Steve said he tried to kill Barnes.”

“Did he tell you Barnes murdered his parents?”

Clint’s head snapped up. “What?”

Natasha just nodded. Clint sighed again. “Well, I guess that makes more sense.”

“Whoever is right or wrong, we all did what we thought was best, Steve included. But we need to get Tony back.”

Clint shook his head. “I’m coming aren’t I? But I think this is a mistake. Tony can take care of himself just fine. And to be honest, I’m still pissed with him. With all of you, actually.”  
Natasha punched him gently on the arm. “Well, you can rant at him when we get him back.”

“Sure,” Clint didn’t sound convinced.

“Who else is on board?”

“Steve and Wilson, Scott’s already arranged for a ride back to the US, so he’s out.”

“Wanda?”

“She’s coming. She’s not overly happy about it, but, we’re a team, she said, so she’s coming.”

“Are we still? A team, I mean?”

Clint knocked her with his elbow. “Sure we are. This is just a bump in the road.”

“Pretty big bump.” She sighed, then grinned. “Fury wanted to come.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, no. He needs to sit this one out.”

“That’s what I said. He didn’t take it too well.”

“T’Challa’s coming too.”

“What?” Natasha was surprised “I didn’t think he’d want to get involved directly.”

“He does. He understands Tony’s importance in getting the Accords sorted, and he knows we could do with his help. If Ross is waiting for us, he’ll be an asset. Besides, he’s  
harbouring America’s most wanted criminals, I’m not sure he could be any more involved.”

“Makes me think I should sit this one out if I’m not needed,” she joked.

“Nope, you missed out on the first trip, it’s only fair you join us this time.”

Natasha nodded. “I’m going to get my gear.” She held her hand on his arm gently. “We are okay, aren’t we?”

“Always,” Clint replied, before kissing her on the forehead.

*

Ross wiped his hands against his hips before stepping away from the chair and motioning to the soldiers. Tony was still fastened to the chair, tilted against one side, head leant backwards, face lax. Fresh blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Ross snapped his fingers as a tremor worked its way through his prisoner’s legs. 

“Wake him up.”

The salts were used but they didn’t have their normal jolting effect. Instead Tony blinked groggily and started to shift in the chair before wincing, screwing his face up in pain. The smell of burnt flesh reached him and he started retching again. 

Ross moved in and slapped him on the face repeatedly, trying to get his attention. “Come on, Stark, back to it. You were just getting chatty before you left us.”

Tony tried to move his face out of Ross’ grip, tried to remember what they had asked him, what he had said. It was a blur, all he could remember was what they had done to him. He leaned forward to throw up again, it was mostly scotch and bile and blood.

“Where about in Asia? You need to narrow it down a little more than that before we leave you alone.”

Tony felt his stomach clench. Asia? They were talking about Banner still, then. He closed his eyes but snapped them open to yell as Ross crushed his broken, bloody and now burnt fingers in his fist. 

“You look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he warned, spitting as he issued the threat, his temper flaring quickly.

Tony gasped for breath when his damaged hand was finally released before shifting back in the chair again, trying to put some distance between himself and his attacker.

“North or South Asia, Tony. We’ll take baby steps.”

“I don’t know,” he slurred, “Jus’ guessing.”

“North or South,” Ross said, getting the Taser back out. 

Tony shrunk back from the small black object, his heart pounding in his chest. “I don’t-I think-I-just-“

The beep of the door sounding distracted both Ross and Tony, they had never been interrupted before. 

Tony watched carefully to see who was on the other side, his felt his heart sink a little more as a man dressed identically to the other soldiers entered the room.

“Sir,” he addressed Ross, “the package has been collected. Estimated arrival time, 4 hours.”

“Thank you Son.”

Ross spun around on Tony and was positively beaming. Tony watched wearily, sure this wasn’t a good thing for him.

“You hear that? My package is on its way, as we speak.”

“Package?” Tony asked, scared of the answer.

Ross moved in to ruffle Tony’s hair. “Don’t you worry about that,” he laughed. “Four hours Tony. You get a break. Recuperate a little. Because in 4 hours you will be telling me everything you know, even then things I don’t care about.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “What package,” he asked through gritted teeth, trying not to show his fear. 

Ross rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll see, soon. For now, you need to rest.”

Without warning he pressed the Taser against Tony’s upper thigh, pushed it hard against the skin and then pressed the trigger, watching the way the man gargled and flailed beneath him. When he released the weapon Tony stilled in the chair, head hanging low against his chest. Ross clicked his fingers before his face and was pleased when the man didn’t react. He tapped him on the back of the head almost gently.

“Get some rest Tony,” he muttered to himself as he left the room. “God knows you’re going to need it.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow - this is late, I'm so sorry!
> 
> I have this story completely mapped out in my mind, but finding the time to get the words out is sometimes a struggle! I will try to get another chapter out for Sunday but please bear with me if I fall behind schedule!
> 
> Anyway, thank you for all of your lovely comments! I really do live for comments, they lift me up and encourage me to keep going. So thank you, and please, PLEASE keep them coming! 
> 
> x


	11. Chapter 11

Ross sat in the control room, working on his laptop but pausing every so often to check the cameras in the room holding Tony. The man wasn’t up to much, still resting limply in the chair, his head down, unmoving. Every so often a shudder worked its way through his body, but he hadn’t roused yet. Ross’ watch started to beep, taking his attention away from his work, and he smiled as he turned the alarm off. Minutes later a soldier entered the control room, a tight smile on his face. 

“Sir, the package has arrived.”

Ross pushed the screen on his laptop down and hurried out of the room. Minutes later he was on the landing ramp, watching as his new hostage was brought out of the aircraft, hands cuffed before them and a heavy sack covering their face. Ross reached out to pull it off, then took a step back to look his prisoner up and down.

“I’m truly sorry that we have to meet again under such poor circumstances.”

The prisoner stared at him coldly for a minute before nodded his head slightly. “I take it this has something to do with Tony?”

Ross nodded. “Yes. He’s being… difficult. We need your help, we need you to help us… get through to him.”

The figure shook their head angrily. “I’m not going to help you do anything.”

“We’ll see.” He turned back to the guards. “Take him to Stark.” He smiled back down at his prisoner. “You can have a few minutes with him, then we need to get back to it. We’re on the clock.”

The two soldiers escorted their prisoner through the labyrinth of tunnels and corridors before they finally entered the interrogation room. They pushed the man into the room and then the door slammed shut behind him. 

Rhodey felt his mouth slowly drop open in shock at the scene before him. He had realised Tony was in trouble, but this – this, this was not anything he had every expected. When the men had abducted him from the hospital, at first he had thought it was for his own safety, not – shit. Not this. There was only one reason he was here, Rhodey realised, they were going to use him as leverage. From the sight of him, it was easy to assume that Tony hadn’t given Ross whatever it was that he wanted.

“Tony? Tony?” He called, then cursed as the man remained unresponsive. He tried to move closer, but in in the wheelchair with his hands cuffed together, it made movement difficult. He held his hands and hit himself on the leg three times in frustration, still struggling greatly with this newly acquired disability.

“Tony, come on man, I can’t come to you!”

He strained forward in the chair and bucked himself backwards then forwards repeatedly, but the chair only moved an inch. Sighing, eyes wet with frustration, he threw himself forwards, out of the chair and onto the floor. He hit the ground hard and cursed as pain rattled through him, he was still weak; he knew he shouldn’t really be out of the hospital, not yet, his road to recovery would be a long one.

Despite this he pushed his arms out and then dragged himself forwards across the floor, the skin on his arms and elbows grazing as he did so. It seemed to take an age before he was finally in reach of Tony, legs splayed out uselessly behind him. He grabbed the chair leg and used it to pull himself across the last of the ground and then paused as he panted for breath, exhausted. He reached his bound hands up and wiped at the sweat on his face, before trying to push himself up into a sitting position with difficulty, leaning against  
Tony’s legs. 

He caught his breath and reached up to gently grasp Tony’s hand and then recoiled as he saw the state of the man’s hand and fingers. Both hands were also swollen, a result of the cuffs, Rhodes thought, looking at the deep cuts they had caused on the skin of his wrists. He reached up to grab his other hand which didn’t appear as damaged and held it in both of his gently.

“Shit Tony,” he whispered, looking up at the man, trying to take in his physical state. To say he looked awful was an understatement. His face, what he could see of it, was bruised, bloodied and swollen, and his facial hair was grown and scraggy, showing how long he had been detained against his will. A dark red rim lined his neck, the skin broken and bruised, and Rhodey wondered what the hell had happened to give him that, it looked like he’s tried to hang himself. He shook the image from his mind, there was no point in wondering what they had done to him, that wouldn’t help anybody. Instead he looked Tony up and down again, straining his neck, taking in the ratty clothing he wore, it was damp and filthy and the room stank of blood and waste, sweat and alcohol. 

“Shit,” he whispered again, his frustration rising, He needed to get Tony out of here, do something, and he was trapped in his body, helpless. He wanted to reach up and shake the man, rouse him, somehow; but he decided against it, thinking it would be kinder to let Tony rest. He continued to lean against the man’s trembling legs, arms reached up awkwardly to hold his uninjured hand gently.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, more to himself, as the door opened and Ross stormed in.

*

Ross surveyed the scene before him, hands on his lips. “How sweet,” he said, before nodding to the soldiers, “get him back in his chair.”

Rhodey had no choice but to submit as the men grabbed an arm each and pulled him back into the wheelchair, before manoeuvring it so he was facing Tony, two feet of space between them.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rhodey snapped, furious. “What in the hell kind of place are you running here Ross? You can’t do this and expect not to get found out!”

“Enough,” Ross snapped. “Colonel, I greatly admire and respect you, and I’m saddened that I have had to bring you here under these circumstances. But needs must.”

“What do you even want from him?” Rhodey asked, exasperated. “He was working with you, for you. So how in the hell has it got to this?”

Ross smiled. “Tony’s a criminal. He broke the Accords. He confessed.”

“He confessed?” Rhodey was furious. “Is this what it took to get him to confess?”

Ross laughed. “No, he confessed much earlier. Unfortunately he refused to divulge Accord information, which is why we were forced to use more intensive interrogation techniques.”

“This is crazy.”

“You want to help him Rhodes? Now is your chance. My guards are going to bring him around in a minute and I’m going to continue asking my questions, and he’s going to continue to try not to answer them. So you want to do him a favour? Convince him to talk to me, convince him to answer my questions and save him, and yourself a lot of trouble.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m impatient. Wake him up.”

Rhodey pulled at his hands, the cuffs rubbing against his wrists as he watched the guards bring Tony around. The man blinked repeatedly and then lifted his head up slowly. The look of defeat, fear and apprehension, all showing on his exhausted face made Rhodey frown in disgust. Rhodey watched as surprise filtered onto Tony’s face as he finally noticed Rhodey’s presence. Then anger seemed to take over.

“You just made a mistake,” Tony rasped, his voice weak and strained despite his anger. 

“I warned you, Stark, that I had leverage. Now here’s the deal, I’m going to give your friend here the chance to talk you into changing your mind and answering my questions. And if that doesn’t work, maybe we’ll turn our attention to the good Colonel instead?” He walked over to Rhodey and laid a hand on his shoulder gently. “I know he’s not in full working order, but I’ve been reliably informed that he can still feel his upper body.”

“F*ck you,” Rhodey snapped.

Ross moved away and paced back and forth in the gap between the two men. Tony’s head drooped slightly, his heart sinking as he realised what Ross was going to do.

“I’ve asked Tony lots of things, Colonel, and he’s given me some information, he has,” he raised a smile as Tony squirmed at his words. “But not enough. Can you believe, he wouldn’t even tell me where Rogers is hiding out? He won’t tell me where Barton’s family are, or where Banner is. All three men abandoned him, and yet he still defends them. That’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”

Rhodey shook his head. “I’m not going to help you with any of this.”

Ross grinned, then reached out to crush Tony’s ruined fingers in his grip, and Tony screamed and bucked back against the chair as the pain spiked through him. Rhodey forced himself to watch, to not look away. It didn’t take long before Tony went limp again, listing to the side of the chair, and only then did Rhodey notice the charred, burned and infected skin of Tony’s ear. 

“You are a sick b*stard,” Rhodey hissed, “and I promise you, you’re not going to make it out of this alive.”

Ross grinned. “Wake him up.” The guards moved in and this time, as before, when the men snapped the salts under his nose, Tony didn’t rouse. Rhodey felt his stomach tighten as he watched, knowing Tony must be seriously weakened to not respond to the salts. 

“Wake him up!” Ross growled, and the men moved to slap and jostle the man in the chair, but it didn’t work, Tony just slumped further to the side, the chains of the cuffs clanking noisily in the room.

“Fine,” Ross said, running a hand through his hair and checking his watch. “We’ll give him a little more time.”

“He needs food and medical attention if you want him able to function,” Rhodey shouted to Ross’ retreating back, hating himself for his words. 

Ross didn’t turn back. “He can have another hour. If he isn’t conscious when I come back, you’re both going to regret it.”

“He can’t talk if he’s dead Ross!” Rhodey yelled.

“No, but I imagine you’d still be pretty valuable in his place.”

The door slammed shut, ending the conversation.

*

Steve cursed and ran a hand through his hair. “We need a different mode of entry and exit to last time, or we’ll be sitting ducks. Ross has to expect another attack now that we know he has Tony.”

“We don’t even know that he has Tony,” Clint muttered from the front of the plane, where he was piloting the jet.

“Would he expect a second attack?” Wanda asked.

“Even if he doesn’t, surely he put precautions in place after last time.”

T’Challa nodded. “We should consider that reinforcements are in place.”

“Although, we have reinforcements of our own. Wanda, can you see where Tony is?”

Wanda tried to hide her annoyance at Natasha’s suggestion. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“He’s probably in the lower levels, its more secure there, easier to defend.”

“Then we need to enter from below-“

“I’d rather we come in from above.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Steve sighed. “He looked to the old map they had used last time, running his fingers along what they assumed were tunnels beneath the prison. “If we go in underneath, we’re more open to being trapped if they are ready for us.”

“Let’s just use the front entrace,” Wanda suggested, “would they be prepared for that?”

Everyone turned to look at the young woman who was suddenly looking very self-conscious.

“That may actually work,” T’Challa said, a small smile forming as he nodded.

*

Rhodey wasted no time in trying to cover the space between himself and Tony, bucking back and forth frantically, as the chair slowly moved. He reached his arms out and leant forwards and was able to grab the arm of Tony’s chair and drag himself forward in the wheelchair, so that their knees were touching, not that Rhodey could feel it.  
Rhodey took a moment to reach out and feel Tony’s pulse, it was beating, but it was unsteady. He pulled back as a shudder suddenly worked its way through the man’s body, making him jerk in the chair, and he wondered what the hell had caused that. Nothing good. He gently reached out to touch the skin of the man’s mangled ear, it was wet and weeping and black in places, definitely infected. Rhodey swallowed hard as reached his bound hands up and gently touch his hand against the man’s forehead. Despite the cold dampness of his clothes, the skin beneath his touch was warm, his skin clammy. _Shit._

“Come on, Tony, time to wake up,” Rhodey hissed, gently tapping the man on his leg. “Tones, come on, I know you’re in there.”

Tony groaned slightly, his eyes seemed to move beneath the lids, encouraging Rhodey to continue his efforts. “Come on man, I really need your help here, don’t leave me hanging.”

Tony blinked an eye open, seemed to hold his breath as he slowly looked around the room. 

“It’s okay, we’re alone,” Rhodey said, and then sighed as he saw Tony finally take a long and shuddering breath, leaning back in the chair and letting both his eyes close. 

“How long’ve you been here,” Tony whispered. “Have they hurt you?”

“I’ve not been here long, we’re talking minutes. And know, they haven’t touched me.”

The word _“yet”_ hung in the air, but neither man said it.

“I’m sorry,” Tony muttered, then started to cough, unable to stop himself, he sighed as some blood splattered onto his already ruined jumper.

“That doesn’t look good,” Rhodey said, stating the obvious. 

“None of this looks good,” Tony snapped, then closed his eyes as tiredness overcame him.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Rhodey hissed, reaching out to tap him gently on the cheek, only stopping when he saw Tony try to pull away from his touch, in pain.

“Just need to hold on,” Tony said, speech becoming more slurred and unsteady. “I sent them to an old safe house, before. One JARIS monitors, he’ll know something’s up.”

Rhodey felt his worry rise at Tony’s use of “JARVIS,” but choose not to correct him.

“When?”

Tony tried to shrug, the cuffs stopping. “Days ago, I think.” He closed his eyes again. “He’s late.”

Rhodey shook his head, not wanting to make things worse, but Tony had to understand. “Tony, open your eyes, I need you to look at me.”

Tony did, guilt coursing through them as he realised one again what this would mean for Rhodey. He’d already paralysed the man, now they were going to torture what was left of him.

“Tony, they shut FRIDAY down.”

Tony looked stunned. “What? How, they can’t – I, only I can- nobody-“

“I don’t know how. But they searched both the Tower and the Compound, and they shut FRIDAY down. Happy came to see me, at the hospital, he was worried-“

“Then we’re stuck here,” Tony whispered, sinking back down into the chair.

“People will notice you are missing, Happy already hass. Steve, does he know where you are? The others are here, he must be planning a rescue. I’m sure he’ll give us a lift,” he joked.

Tony started to laugh, then stopped as the action hurt his ribs, but then started again, almost hysterical, tears running down his face. Rhodey knew Tony wasn’t laughing at his joke, and worried that the man might be delirious. 

“Steve came,” Tony said, breath hitching as another tremor wracked its way through him. “He came, and took what he wanted,” he stopped to cough again, “then he left.”

Rhodey felt himself go cold. “What?”

Tony nodded, then laughed again. Rhodey thought he looked sinister, laughing, his face bloated from the swelling and blood coating his lips, he looked insane. “He took everyone.  
Ask Ross!”

“Ross could be lying, this could be a plot to turn you against them.”

“Why do you think Ross is doing this,” Tony snapped, suddenly desperate as he looked himself down. “Why, Rhodes, why do you think that is? I’m all he has left,” he rasped, “This is it.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Then we get out of this ourselves.”

Tony started to laugh again, then stopped as it turned into a sob. “I don’t know if you noticed, Rhodes, but I’m a bit of a mess. I don’t think I could even walk right now-“

He stopped, realising his words, frowned again as tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m – I’m sorry. That was s-stupid.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Forget it. And yeah, you are a mess, we both are. But that’s never stopped us before. Maybe you need to give Ross some information, something that would alert somebody-“

“I tried that before, with the safe house. JARVIS was supposed to… it doesn’t matter. And Ross,” Tony laughed again, borderline hysterical. “Ross sure doesn’t like being given the  
run-around.”

Rhodey held his hands against Tony’s leg firmly, trying to pass on some strength, some resolve to him. “Then you carry on doing what you’re doing. Don’t give him anything, Tony, no matter what he does to you, or to me. Don’t give in.”

“I can’t watch him hurt you, James,” Tony said, looking almost ashamed, “I’ve already hurt you too much.”

“That was an accident,” Rhodey snapped, his frustration getting the better of him. “And that wasn’t your fault. I’m not even getting into that now,” he snapped again. “I’m telling you,  
keep on doing what you’re doing. Stay strong. If they hurt me… well, God knows you look like you could take a break.”

Tony closed his eyes again, slowly nodding his head. He opened them again in panic as the alarm to the door sounded. “They’re coming,” he whispered, his terror clear, unhidden.

“You understand what you have to do?” Rhodey asked again, his tone demanding. "Don't give in Tony, no matter what they do. We can't let Ross win."

“Yeah,” Tony muttered. “Just an ass kicking,” he mumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, dread filling him as Ross waltzed back into the room, cigar in one hand, lighter in the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another slightly late update, sorry!
> 
> Things are going to get slightly worse, but then they will improve! I promise!
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE comment! They are the only things that keep me writing! And I love to hear your thoughts on what I have written!
> 
> And thank you to everyone who already has left comments, I really appreciate it! x


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow - thanks so much for all of the comments people!
> 
> I love your comments, so please, please, keep them coming! They really do motivate me to keep writing!
> 
> Are things going to improve for Tony and Rhodes? I hope so! x

“Look who is up and about again!” Ross broke into a smile and clapped his hands together. “You seem to have the magic touch Colonel, we should have brought you in earlier.”

Rhodey ignored him, watching Tony instead, who seemed intent on suddenly staring at his knees.

“I think you’ve rested enough,” he mocked, leaning over Tony. He put the lighter away but played with the still unlit cigar in his hand. “Get him back over there,” he nodded to the chains still hanging over the pipe in the ceiling. The soldiers undid the cuffs and grabbed an arm each, and Tony started to thrash in their grip weakly. Ross leaned over and wrapped his hand around Tony’s upper arm. Rhodey watched silently as Tony crumpled, agony written across his face as he seemed to scream without making a sound, then fell to the floor as the men released him, clutching his upper arm to his chest protectively, retching from the pain. Rhodey assumed the arm was broken, and flinched in his chair as Ross stood over his victim, clucking to himself. 

“Such a drama queen, Tony,” he muttered before kicking at the arm with his boot, making Tony cry out again, before he started gasping for breath instead, trying to quieten himself as he fought to remain conscious.

The soldiers swooped in again, grabbing an arm each and dragging him over towards the chains. Tony noticed that the cuffs that had tied him to the chair were still attached to each arm, and he began to hope that they weren’t going to cuff him, they were going to leave him be, just for a minute, just to let him rest his arm.

A kick to the stomach dropped Tony back to his knees and he gasped for breath, struggling and suddenly surprised. “Pay attention,” Ross spat, “you’re not allowed to wander off in your head like that.”

The soldier on his left pulled out another set off cuffs and Tony struggled in earnest, trying to wriggle from the men’s grasp, but it was too difficult, and within seconds his hands were cuffed together in front of him and then they were threading the chains through the gap between his wrists and slowly hoisting him up. 

Ross held out a hand when Tony was forced upright on his knees, arms pulled up above him. The soldiers paused in their action, waiting for further instruction. “What do you think, Colonel, should we leave him like this or let him swing from his arms?”

Rhodey shook his head, eyes locked on Tony as he struggled to stretch himself up as high on his knees as possible, trying to take some strain off of his damaged arm, face scrunched up in pain, chest stuttering with each breath. Rhodey choose not to answer, not wanting to play any part in Ross’ games.

“Do you remember where we left off?” Ross grabbed Tony’s chin and forced Tony’s head up so he was facing him. “North or south was the question, I think?”

Ross held his hand out expectantly, and Tony watched confused for a moment, before one of the soldiers placed their baton in his hand. He used the weapon to prod Tony’s side, up and down, before pressing it against his head threateningly.

“You remember this, don’t you? I think I got a little carried away last time,” he laughed to himself. “Thought I had killed you, for a minute. The doctors told me I shouldn’t hit you around the head with it again, not if I want to keep you alive. But elsewhere,” he tapped it against Tony’s broken arm, watching with satisfaction as he hissed in pain. “That’s not a problem.” He grasped the handle in both hands and swung it through the air in a practice swing. “You want to give me an answer, Tony?” He asked. Tony shook his head. Ross grinned, then reached out and swung the weapon against his thigh. Tony grunted a few times then took a deep breath before staring up at Ross.

“North or south?”

Tony shook his head, then Ross copied the action before striking out again in the same spot. 

“East or west?” Ross tried.

“I don’t know,” Tony grunted, then yelled out again as a jarring blow hit landed against his thigh once more. 

Ross stroked the baton and grinned. “I’m not going to pretend this is hurting you like I know it could,” he snorted. “This is just an ice breaker.” He moved to stand against Rhodey’s chair. “See if we can loosen you up a little.” 

He reached out and brought the baton down against Rhodey’s knees. Rhodey looked up at Ross furious, but also angrier by the fact that he felt no pain, not even the impact of the weapon against his skin. Ross brought it down again three more times in earnest, then moved away, panting. “It doesn’t hurt him,” he laughed, “but it’s still causing damage.” He moved back over to Tony, grabbing another handful of his hair, holding his head back. “I know you’re planning some kind of walking aid, how will that work, if his knee joints don’t work?”

Tony looked up at him confused. “You talk in your sleep, Stark.”

“Go to hell, Ross,” Rhodey yelled, trying to get the attention away from Tony.

Ross nodded, then brought the weapon back up, used it to prod against Tony’s weeping ear. Tony cried out, couldn’t help it, the whine his mouth made, and then he saw black spots and everything fuzzed out. 

“Wake him up,” Ross ordered, shaking his head.

“Can’t you see he needs help, rest?” Rhodey shouted. “He can’t give you anything if he’s dead.”

“Wake him up,” Ross ordered, and the guards tried the salts for a second time but again Tony didn’t respond. 

“Cut him down,” he ordered, “and get some water,” he added. The guards released the chain holding him up and he dropped to the floor, lifeless. Ross reached out and felt for a pulse, sagging with relief as he felt it. One of the soldiers came in with a glass of water and Ross emptied it onto the man’s face, sighing with relief again as the man’s eyes opened blurrily. Ross stood up, hands in his pockets as he looked down on Tony, who looked confused.

“You’re not use for much,” Ross said, prodding him with his foot again. “Get him back in the chair.” Tony closed his eyes, feeling a sense of deja vu as he was dragged back into the chair. They didn’t fasten him to it this time, leaving his hands cuffed together, laid limply in his lap. He started to sag sideways and a soldier used another smelling salt, causing him to jerk up in the chair confused before he saw Rhodey watching him.

“Rhodes?” he whispered, surprised. 

“It’s okay Tony.”

The security alarm beeped and Tony jolted in his chair, body trembling, Rhodey watched on with worry. The prison doctor entered the room, white coat flapping behind him. “I got your message,” he nodded to Ross, before approaching Tony and putting his bag down. Rhodey was relief, pleased Tony was finally being treated. He watched as the man pulled up the sleeve of Tony’s jumper and injected him with something, before packing his bag back up. Rhodey tried not to wince at the bruises and marks that littered the man’s arm beneath his sweater.

“It should kick in within a few minutes.”

“What have you given him?” Rhodey called out to the doctors retreating back. The door closed behind him.

“Adrenalin,” Ross answered, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’re right, he’s not doing too well. So we need to move on to more important matters. He can’t take much more, Colonel, so this is where it gets difficult for you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Rhodey stated, glaring at the man. 

Ross moved over to the table and opened up his briefcase before taking a swig of the small amount of liquid left in his bottle of whiskey. Rhodey looked back over to Tony, he was sitting upright, eyes open, no longer looking quite like he would collapse at any second, the medication having kicked in. Rhodey felt his breathing speed up as Ross approached, a sheet of paper in his hands, and the two soldiers stood on either side of the chair Rhodey was trapped in.

Ross held the paper up for Tony to see, Rhodey watched the reaction on Tony’s face, the way the little colour it had drained away instantly. Whatever Ross wanted… it wouldn’t be good.

“Who is this, Tony?”

“Wh-Wha-who?” He stammered, looking over to Rhodey, panic on his face. “I don’t-“

“Come on Tony. You support the Accords. You know you have to give us his details. He hasn’t signed, that makes him a criminal.”

Tony shook his head. “He’s just- I just-“ He looked around the room, desperate for a way out. “This has nothing to do with him.”

Ross dropped the print out to the floor, and Rhodey leant forwards to see what it contained. He closed his eyes when he saw the picture, taken from the fight at the airport, of the kid calling himself the Spiderman.

“Tony!” Rhodey warned, knowing he couldn’t give the kid up. 

“He was fighting with you, Tony, so as long as he signs, he’s fine.”

Tony shook his head again. “He can’t sign, he’s a- he can’t.”

Ross pulled his cigar out, then slowly lit it with his silver lighter. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke in Tony’s face. “I want him,” Ross threatened. “You’re going to give him to me.”

Tony held his breath, watching as Ross moved over to stand next to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. Ross nodded to one of the soldiers who pulled the Taser out of his trouser pocket. Tony fidgeted in the chair, left foot tapping on the floor as the fingers of his good hand played with the hem of his sweater. 

“Rhodey, I, I-“

“Forget it Tony. Don’t tell him anything. Don’t. Whatever they-“ He broke off as the soldier pressed the Taser against his chest. Then Tony watched, back pressed up against his chair, sweat lining his bruised and bloated face as he watched, face screwed up with guilt and horror as Rhodey thrashed against the chair. The guard pulled away and Rhodey slumped forwards. 

Tony cleared his throat and was surprised when he spoke with a clear and steady voice. “You’ve made your point, Ross. Leave Rhodey alone, and I’ll, I’ll, cooperate.”  
Ross leaned in closer. “You’ll name the new guy?”

Tony swallowed hard. “I could find… Banner, if you give me access to some tech I know how to find him.” His voice sounded desperate, even to himself.

Ross looked thoughtful, for a second Tony thought he was going to consider his offer. He felt sorry, for doing this to Bruce, but this was Rhodey, he’d already crippled the man-  
His train of thought broke off and was replaced with a jagged scream as Ross pulled at the damaged flesh that no longer resembled an ear. He dug his nails into the skin, twisting to get closer to Tony as he whispered into his other ear. “You still don’t get it do you,” he spat. “You don’t get to choose what you give me Stark, I want it all and I’ll take it and you’ll give it to me!” He released his grip and Tony pulled away from him in the chair, gasping for breath, struggling to breathe through the pain. 

Tony flinched again as Ross barked out his familiar order to the soldiers. “Wake him up.”

The soldiers advanced on Rhodey, smelling salts at the ready, and Tony, desperate, suddenly jumped up in the chair, using his cuffed hands to club Ross in the stomach as hard as he could before turning to try and tackle the guards. He made it two steps before his legs collapsed beneath him and he yelled in frustration as he tried to push himself up from the floor, wounded hand throbbing from the impact with Ross’ stomach. 

The two soldiers were on him in seconds, dragging him up by the neck of his jumper and throwing him back into the chair. He fought against their hands as best as he could, but was quickly subdued. The men released his wrists from the cuffs but then quickly retied them to the arms of each chair. He tried to kick out as the men used zip ties to restrain his legs to the chair legs. Furious, he bucked against the restraints holding him down but tired quickly. He looked over to Rhodey, he was still slumped in his chair, and he hadn’t roused since he had been shocked.

He looked back up to Ross just as the man strode over and punched him in the face. His head was thrown to the side, then Ross’ hand was in his hair, holding his head up again keeping it in place so he could punch him again with the free hand. Tony spat blood, then started to cough as Ross followed up with another hit to his stomach. Tony gasped for breath then winced again as Ross grabbed another fistful of hair. “That was a mistake,” he growled, furious, “and one you’re going to regret.”

He stepped back and took a deep breath to calm himself, before nodding to the soldiers. “Grab him,” he ordered, “and get my pliers.”

Tony thrashed as best as he could in the chair, but the soldiers were on him, and his head was forced back and he was gagging on the wood and then everything whited out for a   
second as the pain drilled through him. Rhodey came too to the sound of Tony’s chocked screaming, he winced and tried to move his chair, do something, anything, to help his   
friend; Ross’ back was blocking his view. 

Ross moved away suddenly, and then Tony was leaning forward in the chair again, coughing up blood and bile, face pale and clammy, eyes wet from tears he couldn’t contain. 

“The kids name Tony, or I take another one.”

Tony shook, the handcuffs clanking against the chair. Rhodey watched, worried, saw the thick steam of blood running down the man’s chin from his mouth. 

“I want a name.”

Tony coughed some more before he started thrashing again as the soldiers approached from behind, forcing his head back. Rhodey saw the tool in Ross’ hand and realised what was happening, what they had done to hi what they were going to repeat.

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” He yelled, desperate. Ross turned to face him. “He doesn’t know,” Rhodey gasped, hoping he was convincing. “He doesn’t know. The kid, I brought him in.”

“This is nice,” Ross mocked. “Lying, to try and save your friend.”

“It’s true,” Rhodey spat. “Tony asked me not to tell him, for his protection as much as the kids.”

Ross looked unsure for a moment, before he shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Give me a name, or I take another tooth from him. I’ll warn you, he’s missing a few.”

“Wait –no.”

“Continue,” Ross snapped to the guards, and then Tony was thrashing again, but it was useless. Rhodey shouted, yelled obscenities, furious, the men were supposed to target him. 

He hadn’t expected this. He pushed his body back and forth in the chair, Tony’s screams fuelling him, but he was helpless.

Ross pulled away and eyed the bloody tooth now displayed in his hand. “Shall we take another?” he asked. Tony was now slumped back in the chair, motionless. 

“I’ll be honest with you Colonel, I don’t know which one of you recruited this person, and I don’t care. I just want a name, now.”

Rhodey shook his head. 

“Maybe we should take one of yours instead?” Ross turned his head to the side, staring at him. “Let’s give that a go.”

The soldiers approached and Rhodey felt a strange mix of fear and relief flood through him. “It’ll take more than that,” he hissed, as the man grabbed him. 

“I don’t doubt that,” Ross smiled again. Then he cursed, when an alarm began to wail.

*


	13. Chapter 13

Ross’ head snapped up to one of the cameras in the ceiling before he pulled out his phone, then nodded to the two men who were suddenly holding their guns out, each pointing their weapon at a prisoner. Ross glanced at his phone again, before pulling it to his ear as it began to ring.

“I’m on my way,” he muttered, “let’s make sure we get it right this time.”

He stormed out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. 

“What’s going on?” Rhodey demanded, chest still heaving from the expected attack on himself that had suddenly stopped. The soldiers ignored him, instead keeping their focus on their aim and their targets. 

“Tony, they’re coming,” he stated, deciding that whatever was going on, the alarm that was continuing to wail, it had to be a good thing, for them at least. He looked over worriedly when Tony didn’t reply, his was slumped to the side in the chair, head lolling at an awkward angle, eyes thankfully closed. Blood continued to slowly drop from the corner of his mouth, down his chin and onto the neck of his filthy sweater. Rhodey sighed and tried to shut the thoughts of what was going on outside of their room from his mind, and instead settled himself by watching Tony, subconsciously counting his breaths as the man’s chest rose, fell, and sometimes stuttered in between. 

*

Ross left the room and began to climb the stairs to get to the upper levels where the control room was located. He glanced at his phone again, where a map of the RAFT showed red patches where the compound had been breached, the patches slowly spreading out from the main entrance. Blue patches suddenly appeared, vastly outnumbering the red as they converged. Ross smirked as he replaced his phone in his pocket and sped up, taking the stairs two at a time. This time, it would be different.

He made it to the viewing room within minutes and scoffed as the two soldiers manning the screens saluted him. 

“What have we got?” He barked.

“They came in through the main entrance, managed to stay under the radar until they were right on us sir. Three teams have moved in and engaged.”

“Is Rogers there?”

“Yes sir. Rogers and, some of the others.”

“The girl?”

“Yes sir.”

Ross pulled a chair up and squeezed his way in between the two men. 

“Get her on screen.” The soldier complied, and Ross watched as red flickered from Wanda’s hands, and a fleet of his men suddenly flew backwards through the air, crashing into the wall. 

Ross smiled. “Sound the alarm. OCR467. Do it, now.”

“Yes sir.”

The soldier began typing into one of the holographic screens, and then, suddenly, a new alarm, higher pitched than the first, began to wail. 

Ross leaned into the screen, nose almost touching the glass, as the red suddenly flickered grey and then Wanda collapsed to the ground, clutching at her head, screaming in pain.

*

Roger’s used his weapon to fight off three more soldiers before the new alarm started to wail, and Wanda suddenly dropped to the floor, shrieking in pain. 

Sam was the closest, he ran over and began to fight the men advancing on her with hand to hand combat. 

“Clint, cover Sam!” Steve ordered, before Clint got too worried about Wanda and dropped the ball. “Sam, use your wings and get her out of here, far enough away that the range can’t reach her.”

Sam leant over Wanda and picked her up, cradling her to his chest. “Hold on,” he muttered, grabbing her as best as he could before opening his wings up and flying away. 

“What the hell is that?” Clint yelled as he continued to fire arrows, opening up a clear route so that Sam could take off.

“Don’t know,” Rogers yelled, “Keep fighting, stick to the plan.” He glanced up the remaining men, many already taken out, but he knew there would be more waiting for them, Ross was clearly prepared. “Keep moving, I’ll keep things handled here. Spread out, as we discussed.”

Natasha threw another black clad soldier to the ground, stomped on his wrist and retrieved his weapon from him. She gasped for breath for a second before asking, “you sure?”

“Just go,” he grunted, as he took on another two men. The rest of the team moved through the entrance area, where they had left the jet, next to a red chopper, its engine still cooling down. 

Clint and Natasha headed down to the lower levels, T’Challa would start searching east, and Lang would make his way west. They continued to update each other as they progressed, the sound of gunfire and explosions continued to rock the RAFT. 

Ross watched it all on screen. He watched as the two spies headed downwards, but they still had a way to go before they reached the secluded area where Stark was held, he wasn’t  
concerned. 

He sat on the edge of his seat, barking orders and directions to different groups of soldiers stationed around the prison. He was pleased that the weapon had worked on Wanda, but she had still slipped through his grasp. He slammed his fist down against the table.

“Get to the entrance, Roger’s is alone, take him down.”

Ross rested his chin on his fist and watched as more men dressed in riot gear approached the entrance and tried to take him on. 

Steve watched as more men came charging in, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform and sighed. “I really gotta get my shield back,” he moaned, as the new recruits charged. 

*

Natasha and Clint fought off the last of the men blocking their entrance, then proceeded down the dark corridor. They opened each room and searched it, taking it in turns to enter the room or provide cover. Each one they had covered so far had been empty, but they knew there were at least two more layers below them. 

“Damn it!” Natasha hissed, annoyed.

“You okay?” Lang asked.

“Yeah, just, nothing so far.”

“Same here,” Scott sighed. “King- uh, T’Challa?” he asked. ”Anything?”

“No.” T’Challa was not talkative. 

“You know he’s not here right?” Clint grumbled.

“Let’s just keep going.”

*

Steve continued to fight the soldiers, but he was struggling. He grabbed a shield from a downed soldier but then it shattered under the impact of a grenade he tried to bat away from himself and the jet, back towards his attackers. He was tiring and his reactions we’re getting slower, still recovering from his injuries sustained in the fight against Tony.

“You guys got anything?” He asked, breathless as he fought another man off, then used him a human shield as another man fired on him.

“Negative.”

“I could do with some cover,” he said, hating himself for asking, but he knew when he was beat.

“You want us back up there?” Clint asked, itching for more fight.

“Sure do,” he yelled, then groaned as a bullet grazed his arm. “They’re shooting to kill,” he explained, ducking again then firing back at the man with an unconscious guard’s weapon. “Ross must be desperate,” he panted, “Tony must be here.”

“We’ve seen no sight of him,” Clint cut in.

“But we haven’t searched the entire area yet,” Natasha snapped, glaring at him as they started to head back.

“Just get up here,” he grunted, “we’ll search again when we’ve taken Ross’ men out.”

“How many of these guys are there?” Lang whined. 

“Enough,” T’Challa stated as he suddenly joined Steve and helped him fight back the men overpowering him.

*

“Damn it,” Ross yelled, watching as his men were again overpowered, despite their weapons and grenades somehow Roger’s was still standing, still fighting. He snatched his phone up and ordered the two men to keep the position of the intruders on his screen.

“You should stay here sir,” the younger soldier advised, looking worried. “This is turning into a code red.”

“This is not a code red! Don’t you dare initiate those protocols!”

“Sir, General,” the man stammered. “We need… help.”

Ross glared at him, then spoke through gritted teeth. “This is my RAFT and I’ll go where the hell I like and I’ll decided if we need help or not, do you understand me?!”

“Yes sir. But sir, they’ve breached all security measures and that’s the last force team we have out there.”

“Just keep them on my screen!” He ordered, before leaving the room and sprinting back across the base, heading down.

*

Rhodey continued to alternate between watching Tony slumped over in the chair, and talking to the two soldiers guarding them, advising them to leave while they could or surrender their weapons to him. The men continued to ignore him, one now pointing his weapon at the door, the other kept his weapon trained on Tony’s still form. They clearly didn’t view him as much of a threat, and he hated it. He looked down at his legs, one knee all swollen from Ross’ baton, and cursed with frustration. He needed to get out there, to fight, to help – to do something. Instead he sat still, unable to kick out no matter how much his brain ordered his legs to do so.

He jumped as the door swung open, then felt the disappointment wash over him as Ross stormed over, eyes wild and crazy. 

“Get him up and awake, now.”

“What’s going on?” Rhodey demanded, but Ross ignored him, watching the men as one lifted Tony’s head up by his hair to allow the other to snap fresh smelling salts under his  
nose. Tony's eyes blinked open tiredly and he hissed in pain when his hair was released, slumping back into the chair.

“Free his arms and legs,” Ross ordered, and again the men complied. 

“What are you doing?” Rhodey demanded, suddenly more terrified for Tony now than when they had been torturing him.

Ross hand was on the man’s collar and he was dragging Tony up and out of the chair. 

“Move,” he ordered, pushing his prey towards the still open door. Rhodey watched helpless as Tony’s limbs flailed for a second, and then like a puppet with its strings cut, he dropped to the floor.

“Get up, get up now,” Ross screamed at him, pulling him up again by the collar of his sweater, grabbing at his uninjured arm with his other hand. He managed to get Tony up from the ground and herded him towards the door, Tony took two tentative steps before collapsing into the doorframe, trying to hold himself up.

“Wha’s wrong,” he slurred, looking at Rhodey as he slowly slid down the wall, back onto the floor, still too weak to stand. 

Ross stormed forward, then thinking better of it, turned and kicked Rhodey’s wheelchair as hard as he could. 

“You, stay here,” Ross ordered, then motioned to the other soldier, “carry him. We’re going up.”

The larger soldier moved over, swooped Tony up in one motion, hefting him over his shoulder, his upper body hanging over the soldiers back. Rhodey watched as the men started to leave, Tony’s arms swaying back and forth by the soldiers waistband where a gun was strapped in its holster. 

“Grab it,” Rhodey silently urged his friend, “grab the gun.” He looked up to try and guide the man’s attention to it, but Tony’s eyes were once again firmly closed. 

The remaining guard closed the door, sat down opposite Rhodey, gun still out. Rhodey closed his eyes and shrugged. There was nothing he could do.

*

Ross and the soldier carrying Tony made it up two levels before a voice suddenly broke out over the intercom. It was cocky and sarcastic and Ross felt his last nerve start to fray.

“This is Ant Man, urrr Scott Lang, and I now have control of your viewing room. You probably don’t remember me – I uh – I was here before – but – well, I’m watching you. Right now. And Cap and his pals took out your men so. So I’m not really sure what you’re planning on doing…”

Ross’ head jerked up, realising he was surrounded, the RAFT had been taken. Taking prisoners was now second on his agenda, getting out was first. He pulled the gun from his waistband out and released the safety before ordering the soldier to keep moving up.

“Where are we going?” the man asked, stopping to shift his cargo from one shoulder to another.

“To the entrance. Get a chopper and get out of here.”

“And if they’re waiting?”

Ross pointed the gun towards Stark. “We have leverage. Come on.” Ross licked his lips as they approached he next level, second from the first floor. He was getting out of here, and if he couldn’t, well, if it came to it, if he was going down, he’d take as many Avengers down with him as he possibly could.

*

Clint and Natasha barrelled into the main entrance wing just after Rogers and T’Challa finished taking the last of the attacking soldiers out.

“Great timing,” Steve joked, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily.

“You okay?” Natasha asked. 

“Fine," he winced. "You?” he asked the King.

“I am fine. I am going to the control room, where your friend Lang apparently awaits. There may be information, or even evidence there.”

T’Challa left, and then Lang’s voice filtered into all of their communication ear pieces.

“Uh guys, I have eyes on Ross. He and a soldier are slowly approaching the entrance, where you are. He has a hostage.”

“Let me guess,” Natasha drawled, glaring at Clint. “Tony?”

“Could be,” Scott squinted at the screen. “It’s hard to say for sure.”

*

Ross waited just outside the main entrance, he could hear voices on the other side of the doorway. He motioned for the soldier to release Stark, then pulled out a syringe from his jacket, containing a second shot of adrenalin. He pulled Tony’s sweater up and stabbed the syringe into his chest, depressing the plunger instantly.

Ross watched for ten seconds then grinned as Tony suddenly jerked in his grip, gasping for breath as he shuddered in panic. Ross held a hand over his mouth to quieten him, pushing the gun in his other hand against the man’s head. 

“You’re going to get up now, slowly, and do exactly as I say, or my man here,” he nodded to the soldier, “is going to ring his man, who is waiting back in the cell with your friend the Colonel, with orders to shoot him the second his phone bleeps.” He stopped to pout his lips. “Do you understand me Stark?”

Tony grunted behind the hand, then nodded as best as he could, still confused.

“Good,” Ross released his hand and stepped back. “Get up,” he motioned at the Tony with his gun. “On your feet, now.” 

Tony blinked a few times before he attempted to get up, face twisting as the movement flared up the pain throbbing throughout him. 

“Come on,” Ross yelled impatiently, helping to drag him up. Ross pulled him in front, so Tony was blocking him, then wrapped his free arm around the man’s neck, holding him up as Tony tottered unsteadily on his feet. 

“Cover us,” he ordered the soldier, then pushed Tony forwards into the room. 

*

Steve stood facing the doorway, hands on his hips, ready for whatever faced him. Lang had given the team a running commentary, but still wasn’t sure who the man Ross was using as a human shield was. Clint and Natasha stood on either side of him, slightly behind, giving him space. Steve swallowed hard as the men approached, Tony barely upright, looking confused and disorientated, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright light.

Natasha glared at Clint again, who mumbled a “oh shit, Tony” out loud as he took in the man before him.

“So Rogers, is this what you came for?” Ross sneered.

“What do you want General?”

“I want you. I want all of you. You broke the law and you have to be punished.”

“Like him?” Clint said, nodding his head at Tony whilst glaring at Ross, his anger growing. Tony blinked his eyes again and then grumbled to himself, he kept stumbling slightly,  
Ross’ grip on his neck the only thing holding him up. Natasha wasn’t sure he realised that they were there, or what was happening.

“He brought it on himself,” Ross laughed. “Johnson,” he ordered, “go start up my chopper.” 

The soldier started to move but then hesitated as Clint and Natasha both pointed their weapons at him. 

“Let him go or I’ll finish him off,” Ross mocked, pressing the gun harder against Tony’s head.

“Just calm down,” Steve said, stepping forwards. “Let him go,” he ordered his friends who reluctantly lowered their weapon.

The soldier jogged over to the chopper, climbed into the pilot’s seat and started the engine.

Ross slowly backed towards it, taking careful steps, knowing he needed Stark to stay standing if he were to remain covered.

“Steve?” Tony gasped as he finally laid eyes on his team mates. “Guys?” He whispered hoarsely, as Ross forced him to take another step.

“It’s okay Tony, we’re here.”

“Better late than never!” Ross laughed.

“Look, let Tony go, and we’ll let you walk out of here,” Steve tried, scared of pushing Ross too hard, he looked like a man on the edge and his finger was touching the trigger.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Ross yelled, He tightened his grip on Tony’s neck as the man faltered, then took two more steps towards the chopper. It was almost ready for take-off, the force of the rotors whipping his hair up as he slowly crept his way over to it.

“Fine,” Steve said, taking another step towards the men. “Look, you want a hostage, take me instead.”

Ross smirked. “You’d do that, would you?” he asked, taking a quick glance over his shoulder to see how far he was from the chopper. Just a foot away, he was almost there. 

“You know I would,” Steve said, taking another slow step trying to close the gap.

Ross grinned as he took another step back, pulling the gun away from Tony’s head as he did so. “You misunderstand me, Captain,” he growled, checking over his shoulder again. “I have no intention of taking him with me.”

He pushed the gun against Tony’s lower back and pulled the trigger as he released the man from his grip. Ross jumped into the chopper, slamming the door closed took off within seconds. Steve faltered for a second in shock before leaping forward to catch Tony’s body as he collapsed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late! And I'm sooooo so grateful for all of your wonderful comments!  
> I've been so busy at the minute that I've been struggling to find the time to write. I have it all planned in my head, it's finding the time to get out of my head that's difficult :)
> 
> I'm going away in a few days and will be away for most of Easter so I will most likely not update until after Easter, then I'll try to get back into a more regular updating pattern!
> 
> Anyway, the cavalry has arrived! I hope this chapter was okay, I'm not good at writing action stuff!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please, please PLEASE keep leaving me comments, I LOVE comments!!!
> 
> Thanks x


	14. Chapter 14

“No, no,” Steve grumbled as he rolled Tony onto his back and began looking for an exit wound frantically. Clint and Natasha were at his side within seconds. Natasha took her jacket off and rolled it into a ball before pulling the man forwards so she could push it underneath his lower back, where the bullet had entered. Tony gargled with the pain, and they realised he was still conscious. 

“I can’t see an exit hole,” Steve panicked, sure the bullet was still inside the man, but it was hard to be certain given the condition of his clothing.

“It’s okay Tony,” Clint hushed as Tony grumbled, trying to speak, trying to push them away weakly with his uninjured arm. Natasha continued to press him back against her jacket, trying to staunch the blood coming from the entry wound as Steve patted him down, still looking for an exit wound. 

“Cl…nt,” Tony gasped, blinking repeatedly as he managed to lock his confused gaze onto the man through swollen and bruised eyes. 

“Don’t try to speak,” Clint said, gently tapping his face. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be fine.”

Tony coughed, spitting up blood, then tried to speak again. 

T’Challa and Lang were now in the room, heading to the jet for the medical kits stored there.

“Fam… fam,” Tony gasped, coughing again.

“Just save your strength,” Clint hushed, looking down the man worriedly as a tremor suddenly rolled through him, making his whole body jerk.

“Farm,” Tony spluttered, sounding distressed as the shudder ended. He yelled out in pain as Steve managed to find the exit wound, over his hip, and put pressure over the hole.

Clint suddenly did a double take as he realised what Tony had said. 

“Farm?” Tony’s eyes drifted shit, face scrunched in pain. Clint gently slapped his face as Steve put more pressure on the wound. “What did you say?”

“Clint, give me a hand,” Natasha snapped.

“What do you mean farm? Tony?” Clint asked, voice suddenly hard and cold. “What do you mean?”

“Farm,” he yelled, voice tainted with agony as Steve started prodding around the wound in his side.

“Farm?” Clint said, standing up and running over to the jet. “My farm?”

“What are you doing man?” Lang asked, dropping the medical kits down to Natasha as Clint sprinted past him, into the jet. Clint didn’t answer, instead he jumped into the pilot seat   
and started the engine.

“Clint no!” Natasha said, leaving Tony and running after him. “Tony needs help, we need to get him help, now!”

“Get away Natasha,” Clint snapped. “I need to see my family.”

“You weren't so concerned about your family when you left them to get involved in this!” she yelled at him.

“Didn’t you hear him?” He spat, furious. “He told them about the farm, about my family.” He punched the counter before taking a breath as he flipped more switches and readied the   
craft for flight. “I swear to God Nat, if anything’s happened to them… I will kill him, I’ll kill him with my bare hands. He thinks it hurts now, just wait.”

Natasha took a step back, feeling torn. “You take this jet, you’re as good as killing him anyway.”

Clint shrugged. “That ramp is going to close in 30 seconds. Help him or help me, it’s up to you.”

Natasha sighed as she took a step back. “If he dies, because of your actions now, I swear to God Clint, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Clint smirked. “I’m sorry,” he said. But he wasn't. The engines started to roar.

Natasha shook her head before leaving the jet, the ramp closed behind her instantly, and then she watched with a feeling of helplessness as the jet took off from the RAFT.

She looked over to where Scott and Steve were attending to Tony, T’Challa was watching her with his hands on his hips. “What’s going on?” he asked, angrily. 

“He thinks his family has been compromised,” she explained. “He’s gone to… help them.”

“Great,” T’Challa snapped. He stalked over to the prisoner, no longer conscious, and his face twisted in anger at the state of the man, he was almost unrecognisable.

“I need some help here,” Steve snapped. “I – I think we stopped the bleeding, but internally. I don’t – I don’t know what kind of damage there could be.”

“We saw a medical centre on the screens,” T’Challa informed them. “Scott can direct you. We can probably treat him there better. I will contact my people, tell them we need a full medical team here ASAP. It will most likely take a few hours, at best, I’m afraid.”

“He doesn’t look like he’ll last that long,” Scott put in, looking worried, out of his depth.

“He will,” Natasha said, voice steady, certain. “He will.”

*

The medical centre was set up like a hospital, which was good, except none of them had any idea exactly what treatment Tony needed. He’d been shot. The bullet was out, but the scale of internal injuries… well they had no idea. Then there was the rest of him, he was a mess. His clothes were dirty and soiled and wet, and the visible skin was filthy and bruised and bloodied. Natasha didn't dare think about what injuries lurked beneath his clothing,

Steve gently dropped him onto a gurney and the three of them stepped back to look at him. Natasha leant in to check his pulse again and it was weak but steady. 

“I’m a little out of my league here, Cap,” Natasha said, not knowing where to start. 

Steve nodded. “I know. We need to keep the bleeding in check, that’s a priority.”

“Have you seen his ear?” Scott asked quietly. “And his hand? Can we do something to help?”

Natasha sighed. “Let’s just see if we can find some painkillers, morphine, or something to keep him out. I don’t think we should start messing with anything until the experts arrive.”

Steve nodded. “See if you can get us some medication,” he ordered Scott. “And some water or something, so we can clean him up a little.”

Scott nodded and took off. Steve looked at Natasha worriedly as she checked his pulse again. “No change,” she said. She rested her hand against his forehead gently. “He’s burning   
up.”

Steve nodded. He pointed to the blood staining his chin, his neck, matted in his beard. “Is he bleeding, internally, to cause that?”

Natasha shrugged. They both stilled as another tremor worked its way through him, making his arms and chest judder. Steve held him against the trolley gently.

“Shit,” he muttered thinking he knew what had caused this. Natasha nodded that she agreed with what he wasn’t saying. “Electricity,” she sighed.

Tony’s head suddenly turned, and they both took a slight step back as they realised the man was semi-conscious.

“Tony? Tony its Steve,” he said, leaning in, hoping he would understand. “You’re safe, it’s okay, we've taken over the RAFT and we’re getting you medical help.”

Tony looked around worriedly, before his eyes closed again. “Farm,” he muttered quietly, eyes still closed. “Cllllnt.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha stepped in, gently rubbing his good arm. “Clint’s gone to check on them. It’s okay.”

If Tony was relieved to hear this, he didn’t look it. He suddenly opened his eyes again, turning his head back and forth trying to look around him.

Steve held his head still, leaning into him. “It’s okay Tony, we’re safe, you’re safe. We’ve taken the guards out.”

“R-“ he started to slur.

“Ross escaped,” Steve admitted. “He isn’t here, it’s just us. You’re going to be okay.”

A pained look crossed his face as Tony tried to sit up, then moaned in pain and frustration as the two held him back against the gurney.

“Rhooo-“ he tried again. He was exhausted, and speaking hurt, his mouth was so swollen inside.

“He’s gone.” Natasha tried, seeing his distress.

“Found …im?”

“He used you as a hostage, he managed to get away, but he isn’t here.”

Tony dropped his head back in frustration. “Jaaames,” he tried, fighting the darkness encroaching upon him.

Steve’s face hardened. “He isn’t here, Tony. But he is safe. Now isn’t the time to discuss Bucky.”

Tony glared up at him, eyes watering with frustration. He tried to push himself up again then chocked on a groan as he realised it hurt, it hurt too much. His head drifted to the side, he was too weak to hold it up. He looked up at Natasha from where his cheek lay against the trolled in a last ditch effort as he felt his eyes drifting. He saw the concern on her face, the worry, and he willed her to understand. “’-odes,” he muttered before his eyes drifted closed, a new fresh trail of bloody working its way from the corner of his mouth.

Natasha and Steve both looked at each other, horrified.

“Rhodey?” Steve clarified, looking more stressed. “Oh, no… no.”

“Stay with him,” Natasha said, “I’m going to see if he’s here.”

*

Natasha nearly knocked T’Challa over as she rushed through the halls.

“What’s wrong, is he-“

“Rhodey,” she paused to gasp for breath. “He’s here, we think.”

T’Challa nodded thoughtfully. “Then I will help you find him.”

“How long until help arrives?”

T’Challa sighed. “90 minutes, at best. I have our two fastest jets coming, one containing my best medical team.”

Natasha sighed worriedly, the stress getting to her. “That could be too long.”

T’Challa said nothing. They started on the lowest levels, to work their way up. Thirty minutes in and they found Rhodey, looking worse for wear in a wheelchair, a soldier stood behind him, holding a gun to his head.

“You should surrender,” T’Challa warned the man. “You are the last of your kind here. Everyone else has fled, been taken prisoner, or killed.”

The soldier quickly glanced at the screen of the phone in his free hand. Natasha never hesitated, and the man staggered backwards then dropped, a bullet hole in his head.

“Was that necessary?” T’Challa asked, disappointed.

“That son of a bitch deserved it,” Rhodey spat, chest heaving. “Where is Tony, do you have him, is he okay?”

Natasha moved over to check on him, focusing on his knee which was busted. “I’m fine,” he said, pushing her away. “How’s Tony? You do have him, don’t you?”

He saw the look Natasha and T’Challa gave each other, felt his blood run cold. “Tell me, what’s happened? Is he…”

“We have him,” Natasha said, gently. “Ross used him as a hostage so he could escape. He shot him.”

“What, where – how bad is it?”

“We don’t know, he’s… not good. We’re waiting for medical support, it’s on its way.”

Rhodey felt a thousand questions racing through his mind, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t order them. He was usually calm under pressure, but now, now he just felt pure panic.

“Take me to him,” he gasped, “please.”

Natasha made to push his chair, and Rhodey felt his face crumple at his lack of independence.

“If you don’t mind, Colonel,” T’Challa cut in respectfully. “It would be quicker for me to carry you, if you wish.”

Rhodey swallowed his pride and nodded. “Thank you.”

*

It was eerily quiet when they made it up to the medical area. Natasha had carried the wheelchair behind T’Challa, and they placed Rhodey in it at the side of the gurney Tony was laid against, motionless. 

“How is he?” Rhodey asked as he wheeled himself closer.

Steve rubbed a hand against his forehead, leaving some dried blood on his skin. 

“He’s… okay, I think. The bleeding is controlled, for now.” 

Scott motioned to the bloody water bowl on the floor. “We tried to clean him up but it disturbed him, and he panicked so-“

“Why is he still here?” Rhodey reached out to check his pulse again. A wet strip of material had been left over his forehead, another on his neck in an attempt to cool him. 

“I gave him some morphine, stopped the bleeding…” Steve looked exasperated, lost for words. Rhodey noticed how tired the man looked. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“Why isn’t he in a hospital,” Rhodey repeated angrily, resting his hand lightly over Tony’s filthy sweater. “He needs help!”

“We can’t take him to a hospital here Rhodey, you know that,” Natasha said quietly.

“He needs help!” Rhodey yelled again, panic and frustration getting the better of him.

“I have people on their way, who can assist.” T’Challa explained, “We can have him back in my home within hours, giving him the best medical treatment possible.”

The words were meant to calm, but instead had the opposite effect. “Hours, hours! Have you seen the state of him!” he spat. “Look at him, look at what they did to him,” he punched at his leg with anger. “Because of you!” he yelled, turning on Steve. “Because of all of you, and he’s dying for Christ’s sake! Look at him! You expect him to wait hours! He doesn’t have hours!”

Natasha swooped in, grabbed his hand, the one now squeezing his already damaged knee with as much strength as possible. She held it tightly within his, he tried to pull it away but she didn’t let go.

“I know, it’s not good. He deserves better. But this is the best we can do.”

Steve stood off to one side, still wincing at Rhodey’s words, when his head suddenly snapped up. “Tony!” he yelled, and then moved over to the gurney. Natasha and Rhodey both turned, confused, then worried, as they saw Tony’s body shaking, rocking back and forth violently against the gurney. Rhodey tried to hold onto him, Steve helped, forcing his weight on the man’s chest to stop him from toppling off of the stretcher and onto the floor. 

“What’s going on?” Steve yelled, panicked. 

“He’s having a seizure,” Natasha filled in worriedly, watching the men try to hold his body still as it continued to convulse in their arms.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back! Sorry for the delay these past few updates - I've been so busy! But I'm going to try get back on track with weekly updates every Sunday!  
> As always please, PLEASE comment, that's the only reason I really write! I just love getting comments!  
> HAPPY EASTER everyone! x


	15. Chapter 15

Natasha watched as Rhodey and Steve struggled to hold onto Tony’s form, pressing him against the gurney until his body finally stilled. They watched silently for a moment, then Natasha pushed past Steve and placed her hand on the man’s chest. 

“He’s not breathing!”

Rhodey reached up to feel for a pulse and started to panic. “Shit, no pulse, no pulse! You need to resuscitate him, now!”

Steve hesitated for a moment then snapped into action, crossing his hands together and starting chest compressions. Natasha tilted his head back and counted Steve’s compressions, then moved over to breathe into his mouth as Steve paused. They repeated the cycle three more times, T’Challa standing with a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder as they watched, Rhodey’s face strangely blank. After the forth cycle, Natasha pulled away then leant over him, her ear pressed just by his mouth, holding a hand up for silence. 

She almost sagged with relief when she informed them “he’s breathing again.”

Rhodey reached over again to check his pulse. “It’s there, but weak,” he worried.

“Help will be here any minute,” T’Challa informed them, tense.

They all winced as Tony’s body started to shake again, but this time it was just another tremor and it ended quickly. 

“We need them here now,” Rhodey snapped. 

Lang coughed as he scratched his neck awkwardly, looking nervous. “I’m just going to go wait at the entrance, I can direct the team when they arrive.”

“Thanks,” Steve nodded, watching Tony’s chest as it slowly rose, fell and continued to frequently stutter in between. 

T’Challa started to pace, then looked up at a camera in the room. “I’m going back to the control room, all of the cameras in this place; this is evidence.”

*

THREE DAYS LATER

Natasha crept through the waiting area of the medical centre and quickly headed to the private ICU room where Tony was being treated. The medical teams had banned visitors until   
he was more stable, but last night, she had managed to make her way through the centre unnotied, and the nurse waiting outside his door had been called away as she arrived, allowing her to slip inside his room and sit with him a few hours, unnoticed. She planned to do the same again tonight. 

The nurse was absent tonight, Natasha noticed, but then she gasped as she slipped inside the room and saw she wasn’t alone.

“Shit, you made me jump,” Fury said, glaring at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Fury was sat beside Tony’s bed, a tablet on his lap, it looked like he had been working. “Same thing as you I imagine. I just wanted to, check on him,” she admitted. 

Fury pulled a chair out for her, next to his, and she slipped into it gracefully.

“How is he?” 

“Same as yesterday. Stable, ish. His heart hasn’t stopped in the last 12 hours, they’re really happy about that.”

Natasha nodded, taking it in as she looked at the man in the bed. His hair and beard were grown out, and the cuts and bruises that littered his skin made him look filthy, even though that wasn’t the case. His arm was in a cast and his fingers on the same arm heavily bandaged, looking mummified. His head was tilted to the side, keeping his ear free from any weight as it slowly healed. It was covered in creams and gels but left unwrapped, the doctors were waiting to decide if skin grafts would help to heal the damaged skin. 

She gently reached over, mindful of the wires running into his free arm, the tube in his mouth, helping him breathe, and gently touched his forehead. 

“He’s still hot,” she said. He was dressed in a lightweight gown and it stuck to his skin in places. Natasha closed her eyes as the images of the damage underneath the gown lingered in her mind. The medical team and taken him from her and Steve’s grip after they had loaded him onto the jet, and had immediately stripped his jumper from him. The burn marks that had littered his chest, neck and arms, it still made her feel sick. She had counted over 40 marks before they had rolled him over to pack the bullet wound in his back, and she had felt her eyes water as she saw dozens more littering his skin, before Steve had pulled her away, to give the team more room as they desperately worked to stabilise him, his heart shutting down for a second time in under an hour.

They were all grateful for the healing abilities of the Wakandan team. In the US, or anywhere else, she was sure he would have died. But somehow the team managed to restart his heart twice on the jet and keep him with them before they had rushed him into surgery after they landed to correct the internal bleeding and the other injuries that were contributing to his quick decline.

Natasha didn’t realise she was welling up again until Fury handed her a tissue.

“He’s going to pull through his,” he stated, certain. “He’s got through the worst part, now he just needs time to heal.”

“He’s still struggling with the infection,” she stated, “and that’s probably the least serious part of it all.”

Fury shook his head. “No, he’s still fighting the infection. He’s a fighter. And the doctors here, they’re pretty amazing. By rights he should be dead, but he isn’t, and it’s going to   
stay that way.”

Natasha nodded. Fury tapped her on the leg, sensing her discomfort. “What’s really wrong Romanov? I’ve seen you go through hell and back before and not bat an eyelash, why are you so worked up over Tony? The only reason we got him out was because you noticed he was missing in the first place.”

Natasha sighed. “Ross threatened to arrest him if he didn’t arrest Steve, and I let Steve go. Then after that, I warned Tony to watch his back, I knew Ross was after him, and still I just – I left him. Got myself out of there. Left him to it.”

“If you hadn’t, you could have been in there with him, and then we wouldn’t have either of you.”

“I just – I knew Ross was mad, that he had a little too much power. But I never imagined he would do this. And not to Tony, of all people. I just can’t believe what they did to him.   
They pretty much killed him.” Her voice hardened. “Ross will pay for this.”

“That he will.” He picked up his tablet. “I’m still getting updates on potential leads, nothing so far but, he can’t stay hidden forever. He’ll show himself, then we’ll act. I had the Wanda girl looking for me earlier.”

Natasha’s face hardened. “What did she want?”

“To help, if she can. I’d say she looked as guilty as you do, so don’t be too hard on her, or yourself.”

Natasha just shrugged. “She might have good intentions, but I don’t want her anywhere near Tony until he’s stronger.”

“Understood.”

*

10 DAYS LATER

Tony opened his eyes, or tried to. They felt heavy, gluey, like he had been sleeping for a long time. He tried again, and managed to crack one open, the other followed shortly after. 

He blinked three times, bright sunlight streaming into the room, making his eyes burn. He moved to shield them with his arm, but couldn’t move it. He tried to shift over, to look down, and saw his arm was in a thick white cast. He tried to move his other arm but it was too heavy, he couldn’t lift it.

He looked around, confused, and saw a blurred figure coming towards him. He tried to raise his arm again, to shield himself, fight – something was wrong, something bad was going to happen-

He heard the shrill beep of a heart monitor and then the danger seemed to pass as the blurred figure morphed into Natasha, sitting at his side, her arms raised in a defensive gesture. 

“It’s just me Tony,” she soothed, “just Nat.”

He felt a soft touch in his hair, and looked up to see her arm gently soothing it back from his forehead. He should be angry, he knew, he just didn’t know why.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice croaked, causing him to cough, and pain seemed to rattle through him. “Where-m I?” 

He tried to stretch his neck, to look around, but winced again at the pain and dropped back against the soft pillow.

“You don’t remember?”

He blinked again, and found it harder to open his eyes this time.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, his words thick and slow, lisping slightly. 

“Everything’s fine,” Natasha told him. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she corrected.

“Did I… do something bad?” He asked, frowning with confusion. He could sense something was off, but he wasn’t sure what. And everything… hurt. Everywhere, he realised. A   
lot. “Something’s wrong,” he tried to explain himself. “Hurts,” he said, quieter now. He tried to shift himself up in the bed again but collapsed against the mattress in pain, gasping for breath.

“It’s best not to try and move too much,” Natasha said softly. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, threading her fingers through his hair again in an attempt to sooth him. It had worked before, in calming him, when he had woken previously, sometimes confused, or pained, angry, trying to fight her, or scared and lost to his surroundings. Each time he hadn’t been able to remember the previous times he had woken, and each time, she had quietly calmed him down, told him he was safe, fine, just recovering from an accident. It wouldn’t last for long, she knew. Each time he was slightly more aware, more in control, as soon as his recovery allowed it, and he was conscious for longer periods of time, they were going to have to talk. 

“Everywhere,” he muttered drowsily. “Did I crash the suit?” His words still sounded strange, and he probed the inside of his mouth with his tongue. “What – my teeth,” he said, sounding panicked. “What happened?”

Natasha reached over him, fiddled with a controller, and then something cool suddenly flowed through his bones, making him lighter, more relaxed. He closed his eyes again, drifting back into a medicated sleep.

She watched him, waited until his breathing and heart rate evened out, then got up and quietly left the room. She startled slightly when she saw Steve waiting for her outside. He looked tired, worn out, guilty. 

“Any better?” Steve asked, voice quiet, uncertain. 

Natasha shook her head. “Maybe a little. He was still in a lot of pain, so I put him out again.”

“Did he remember anything?”

“He doesn’t seem to remember anything from the last time he woke, but the doctors said that was to be expected with all of the drugs. He was confused, thinks he crashed the suit.   
I didn’t correct him.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Steve muttered, voice all but a whisper.

“For now,” Natasha nodded. “I don’t think he’s strong enough for the truth just yet.”

*

Natasha found T’Challa in his office, reading a report.

“Anything on Ross yet?”

T’Challa sighed. “No. But the US government have put an official warrant out for Stark’s arrest today. Still no reports on the breach at the Raft. Here,” he said, “todays medical report, will you give it to Mr Fury when you meet later?”

Natasha took the copy with a frown. “He’s been reading these?”

“Every day. I’ve also been told by a source that you are expecting a guest soon?”

Natasha folded her arms across her chest as her frown deepened. “He’s not my guest. But yes, Clint is on his way.”

“ETA?”

“Tonight.”

T’Challa frowned, anger clouding his eyes for a moment. “Mr Stark is alive despite his best efforts. We be having words when he arrives.”

“I’ll be having words when he arrives, believe me.”

T’Challa smiled slightly then nodded his head. “Make sure to send him to me when you have finished. He will face the consequences of his actions.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on target with the updates!  
> Once again thank you SO MUCH for reading and leaving your lovely comments! I really do appreciate it! But PLEASE continue to do so, they really do keep me going/writing!  
> xx


	16. Chapter 16

Clint wasn’t surprised to be met by armed guards when he finally reached the border to Wakanda. He dropped his backpack and raised his dirty hands in surrender, hoping the soldiers knew he wasn’t intending to put up a fight. 

“Mr Barton?” A tall man with a deep voice asked, weapon pointed at him.

Clint nodded, lowering his arms, he was exhausted from the trek.

“Come with us. King T’Challa is expecting you.”

Clint followed the men into an armoured truck and closed his eyes as he took a seat, readying himself for the last leg of his journey. 

“Everyone get back okay?” he asked.

“That’s not your concern,” the guard replied coldly.

That was the extent of the conversation, for the entire three hour ride. When the truck pulled to a stop at the compound Clint gritted his teeth as he got out and stretched his body out as best as he could.

He was familiar with the area from his previous stay here, he held his head up and started to head towards the compound, ready to face his fate. The group would be mad with him,   
he knew, but he was justified. He could explain.

He stopped when the soldier grabbed his arm roughly from behind.

“What the hell?” Clint snapped.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I’m going to my room.”

“Your room is taken. We will escort you to your new room.”

“Escort?”

“You are under house arrest, Mr. Barton.”

“What? Where’s T’Challa, I need to speak to him.”

“King T’Challa is aware of your arrival.”

“Well I need to speak to him now.”

“He will speak to you when he is ready. Please follow me. If you resist, you will be forced.”

Clint hesitated, he knew the men would overpower him, but he was half tempted for the challenge, to let out some of his frustration at the situation. After a long moments silence Clint finally nodded and followed the soldier through the compound.

He was taken into the east wing that contained a secure unit, his room more of a cell, albeit a luxurious one, with a bed, bathroom and window, so he wasn’t complaining.   
He surveyed his surroundings for a moment before sitting down on the bed hesitantly.

“King T’Challa will be along when he is available,” the soldier said, before leaving the room.

“Give him my regards,” Clint muttered, noticing the sound of door being locked behind the soldier.

*

Clint rested for a few minutes before getting up from the double bed and inspecting his room more closely. The walls were painted a warm yellow, the floor tiled, and he was surprised to find the bathroom fully stocked with soft towels and toiletries. Given his three day journey, the shower was too inviting, and he spent a long time under the hot spray, washing the muck and grime from his body. When finished he wrapped up in a towel as he rummaged through the clothing neatly folded on the unit in the bathroom. He dressed in a black t-shirt and comfortable bottoms, then towelled his hair dry. He stopped in his tracks for a second as he moved back into his room and saw a visitor sitting on his bed.

“You’re not King T’Challa, are you?” he said, words dripping with sarcasm. 

Natasha didn’t return his smile. “He said I could have you first.”

“Right,” he dropped the towel on the floor and leant against the wall. “So you’ve come to have a go at me, right?”

Natasha laughed but with anger rather than humour. “Have a go at you? Don’t you dare downplay what you did!” she snapped, standing up and pacing.

Clint was equally angry. “By ‘what I did’ I assume you mean – make sure my family were safe? Is that what you mean?”

“You left Tony for dead.”

“What? No, he had all of you there to help him.”

“You took away our only means of transportation! You left him there, he desperately needed medical support, and you just took off! And you left us, all of us, with no way out. What   
if Ross had sent reinforcements? We were trapped there!”

“You were fine. I make a judgement call.”

“Judgement? Your judgement was off, you flew off in a panic without any consideration for the rest of us.”

“I had to make sure my family were safe. That’s what Tony wanted me to do, that’s why he warned me.”

“Warned you? He could barely speak, he was half dead!”

“He warned me,” Clint muttered darkly.

“And were your family safe?”

Clint looked down at his bare feet. “Yes. They were.”

“So you left Tony, left us all there, for nothing?”

Clint shook his head. “It wasn’t for nothing. If there had been danger, I would have been there. And I’ve moved them now, somewhere I know they can be safe, somewhere none of you know about.”

The words hurt, but Natasha didn't show it. “If that makes you feel better, great. But if there had been a problem before, if Tony had told them anything about your family, you would have been too late. You had been gone for weeks, a few hours wouldn’t make any difference. You shouldn’t have left us.”

“I’m sorry you’re mad, Nat, but my family come first, you know that.”

“Like they came first when you left them to join Cap in a fight that had nothing to do with you?”

Guilt crossed his face, but the anger still lingered, and the fact that he felt justified only served to further anger Natasha.

“Are you even going to ask about him?”

“What? Tony? I’m sure he’s fine, I’d have heard something otherwise.”

Natasha started to pace, arms still folded tightly against her chest. 

“Fine, no. But he’s still alive, if that’s what you mean. Despite the best efforts of Ross and you!”

“I didn’t hurt him! Look, anyway, that’s between me and him. I’ll speak to him and we’ll smooth this over.”

“Speak to him? Clint, he nearly died. The doctors had to put him in a medically induced coma before. He had a tube breathing for him. Christ - his heart stopped six times. Six   
times! He’s – he’s – he’s barely able to string two sentences together when he comes round now and it’s been three weeks! And I don’t know if that’s because of the pain, the drugs of the fact that he’s missing five of his teeth!”

Clint winced slightly as he shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry, okay, sounds like Ross did a number on him-“

“Did a number on him? Did – a – number – on – him! That's just the headline," she hissed, furious. She picked a folder up that she had dropped onto his pillow “I can’t even speak to you right now. Whether you did this or not, you left us when we needed you – you left him,“ she waved the folder at him, “like this. He should be dead, Clint, really. Read it.”

She threw the folder at him, it fell to the floor and some of the papers scattered over the tiles.

“You read that, in your luxury cell,” she yelled, not realising she had raised her voice. “Which is a hell of a lot better than the one Tony was tortured in. And then maybe you’ll quit   
your self-pity party and start thinking about what you’ve done, to your family and to Tony!”

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her, and Clint sighed as he leant down to pick up the papers and the folder, Stark’s medical file, he assumed. He paced the room a few more times before sitting down to read, it’s not like he had anything else to do.

*

It was late when Fury made it into Tony’s room – he just wanted to get into bed and sleep he was so tired, but it had been days since his last visit – and he wanted to check in on him in person. He was reading the daily reports but it wasn’t the same as seeing the man in the flesh.

He nodded his head in greeting to the nurse whose job it was to make sure Tony wasn’t disturbed through the night. She got up and left her post, knowing Fury would page her when he was finished, they had an agreement. Fury pushed into the room and looked over the patient, he was looking better, slightly, the bruises fading and the cuts slowly healing. He still looked weak, he’d lost far too much weight, and there were still too many tubes and wires running into his body. 

Fury sighed as he sat down, his bones creaking, he was getting old, and every day he felt like his age was catching up with him. He’d brought his tablet with him, intending to read up on Ross’ latest press release demanding the public be vigilant and report any sighting of any Avengers, including Tony. The man had come out of his hiding 24 hours after the first statement declaring Tony a fugitive was publicised. Fury was still chasing down leads, contacts; Ross was hiding in plain sight in the states; they would get him. 

He decided to read the statement later and instead catch up on the days report on Tony. The team were slowly reducing the sedatives each day, but it was a balancing act, they wanted him to become more aware without being totally consumed by the pain he would be in. It was difficult. He’d spoken with both Natasha and Rhodey yesterday – who each claimed he was more aware each time he woke, but was still confused, still not always able to remember previous visits. But the more aware he became, the stronger he seemed, then the sooner they were going to have to talk to him. But they had agreed to wait until the doctors deemed him ready, and he would need to be conscious for longer periods of time first, he still hadn’t managed a full hour yet without drifting off, or requesting stronger pain medication.

Soon, though, Fury hoped. They hadn’t agreed who would have that conversation with him. Maybe they would draw straws. 

“Watching me sleep? That’s creepy,” a small voice uttered, making Fury startle and drop his tablet. 

“Jesus Stark, you trying to give me a heart attack, put me in the room next door?”

Tony laughed slightly, careful not to jostle himself, he felt sore all over, despite the drugs making everything slightly numbed and blurred. It was like everything had a sheen over it.

“What’y doing,” he asked, voice still weak. 

“Just thought I’d check up on you,” Fury said, shifting himself in his seat so he could face Tony. 

“’I’m fine,” he muttered, closing his eyes again. He didn’t open them, didn’t say anything else, so Fury scooped his tablet back up from the floor and got back to his reading. It was over thirty minutes later when Fury heard the rustle of movement, saw Tony shifting himself slightly in the bed, slowly blinking back to awareness. 

“Rhodey?” he asked.

Fury smirked. “I know were both black but that’s really where the resemblance ends, are you trying to mess with a brother?”

Tony laughed lightly, then hissed as pain rattled through him. “Rhodey,” he repeated lightly, knowing Fury was just pushing his buttons. “He okay?”

“He’s spent quite a lot of time at your side, you probably don’t remember. But he’s fine. Sprained his knee, that’s all, he’s fine”

“Other than breaking his spine,” Tony muttered, eyes closing again.

“You remember what happened?” Fury asked, leaning over the side of the bed to better see the man’s features in the darkness.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed out, opening his eyes again but not meeting Fury’s face this time. 

“How much do you remember?” Fury didn’t want to probe, but at the same time he had to ask.

“Enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony looked up at him, eyes pained as much as he was trying to hide it. “Not your fault.” He tried to sit up and stopped short as the pain suddenly rocketed. 

Fury held a hand lightly against his shoulder. “It’s best you stay put for now. You’re not in the best shape, it’s going to take a while to get you back on your feet.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be pretending to be dead still?” Tony asked as soon as he got his breath back.

Fury nodded, eyes shining with amusement. “I am.”

“What’re you doing here then?”

Fury sat back down in his chair heavily. “It’s a long story. We’ll talk about it when you’re a little better. In daylight, maybe.”

Tony would usually have demanded answers, wouldn’t be put off, for anything, and it grieved Fury when the man just nodded quietly, before gently closing his eyes again, head   
turning away slightly against his pillow. 

Fury sighed, read the rest of the medical report and decided to call it a night. He took his phone out and paged Nurse Johns, before quietly closing the door behind him as he left. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, and a day early! Wahoo!  
> I still have a lot of stuff I want to cover before this one gets finished :)  
> Once again, thank you SO MUCH for your comments! I love them, I really do! Please keep leaving them so I know this story is still worth writing!  
> Thanks again everyone x


	17. Chapter 17

Natasha sat with her head resting on her chin as she watched Fury tap away at his tablet. He sent a final email off before sighing. 

“I seem to have acquired a new shadow,” he said, but his smile gave him away.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

Natasha smiled but then rolled her eyes. “Where to start? I’m thinking about Tony, and Rhodey. I’m trying to work out what Ross’ play is, how he thinks this is going to end. And I’m trying not to think about Clint.”

Fury leant back in his chair and used a nail to pick between his teeth as he nodded. 

“Have you spoken to him?”

Fury shook his head. “Nope. I’ll swing by later, I want to speak to T’Challa first. He seem okay to you?”

“Okay? Fury, he abandoned us, he left Tony like that,” she spat. 

“I know,” he mused, “I know what he did, and I know why. I’m not impressed with his actions, but I can see where he was coming from.”

Natasha shook her head, signalling she would not discuss the subject further. Instead she changed the topic, albeit to another difficult area of conversation. “I saw you going into Steve’s room last night. He have anything insightful to say? He doesn’t come out of his room much, either he’s turning into a recluse or he’s avoiding me.”

“He’s avoiding everyone, not just you. We’ve talked about a lot of things. He’s just beating himself up, you know Rogers. Some of it rightly so, some of it - maybe not. He just needs to take some time for himself, straighten his head out.”

“Well we need a plan, we need to do something. Ross can’t get away with this.”

“He won’t, of that I’m certain. We just need to bide our time, then strike when the time is right.”

“I’m tired of waiting.”

Fury nodded, picked at his tooth for another minute before leaning forwards in his chair. “Let me ask you something Romanoff. Steve and I talked about a lot last night, and I mean a lot. He’s feeling bad about a lot of things. He told me that he and Tony fought, physically, when Tony went after them in Siberia. He found out that his parents, that it was hydra,” Fury said, choosing his words carefully. “Did you know that?”

Natasha nodded. “You didn’t? He didn’t?” she looked surprised. “I thought you both knew, after the file dump.”

“It seems we both missed it. It must have been buried pretty deep, even then. Do you know who did it?”

Natasha shook her head slowly, her face draining of all colour. “No. But the fact that you’re asking me this gives me a good idea about who maybe did do it.”

Fury closed his eyes. “This is a real mess we’ve found ourselves in.”

Natasha nodded. “It is. Are you okay?”

Fury nodded back. “I’ll be okay. Just, the Starks, they were my friends. I never imagined it was hydra. Finding out, it caught me by surprise.” He laughed slightly for a moment. “All of this has caught me by surprise. The press are calling it a “Civil War” – who could have ever seen this coming?”

Natasha smiled. “Remember what you told me when Clint first brought me in? ‘Expect the unexpected.’” 

*

Rhodey was seated at Tony’s bedside when he woke. The man was slightly groggy, but more alert than on previous visits, and he offered his friend a weak smile when his eyes locked onto Rhodey, seated at his side. 

“You look like crap,” he greeted weakly.

“Look who’s talking,” Rhodey said, patting him gently on the white cast covering his arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he replied automatically, then added more honestly, “I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty doped to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey nodded, “they have you on the good stuff. The really good stuff.”

“Thought so,” Tony said, shifting slightly against the bed. “So come on then, honey bear, fill me in.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Your doctor is due any minute, I’ll leave her to talk to you about your condition.”

“I got my ass kicked, that’s all. Well, then I got shot. I think. Did I get shot? Or did I dream it?”

Rhodey sat up in his chair, wanting to jump out of it, to stand, but he couldn’t, still trapped within his seat. “Don’t do this,” he said sternly, pointing his finger at Tony. “Do not do   
this. I won’t allow it. Not this time.”

“What?”

“You don’t get to do this,” Rhodey hissed, feeling frustrated. 

“I don’t know what you mean – did you hit your head in the Raft?” Tony asked, feigning innocence.

“You do not get to brush this off,” Rhodey warned. “You almost died Tony. Multiple times. Your heart – yes, you were shot – and your heart - you - the things that maniac did to   
you-“ he stopped short to take a breath as his emotions got the better of him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry!” Rhodey snapped, “I just need you to take this seriously. You nearly died, and you’re – it’s – you have to take this seriously, Tony. I mean it.”

Tony tried to reach out to grab Rhodey’s hand with the arm encased in plaster, each finger and thumb nail wrapped in heavy padding. His hand shook as he finally managed to make contact, lightly resting it against Rhodey’s arm. 

“I get it,” he whispered, tiring. “And I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this.”

“That’s not your fault.” He gently moved Tony’s arm back towards the bed. “You need to be careful with that,” he explained, carefully setting it back on mattress. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, turning his head back to face the ceiling. “I know. I remember – what happened.”

Rhodey didn’t fill the silence, deciding it best to wait him out, not wanting to interrupt him. 

“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” he said, turning his head again to face Rhodey, wincing slightly. “Is Ross still, free?”

Rhodey nodded. “He is. And it’s been almost a month, since we were rescued.”

Tony huffed out a breath and shook his head slightly. He started to raise his undamaged arm up but one of the wires feeding into it snagged, making him decide against further movement. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve lost a lot of time. Don’t really remember much since we got out.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, everything your body has been through. They put you in a coma, at first.”

Tony raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You were on a machine to help you breath. Your heart kept stopping. When I say you need to take your recovery seriously, I’m not exaggerating.”

“Sure, yeah, okay,” Tony said, still surprised, trying to absorb this information. “And Ross is just carrying on?” 

“He went into hiding, it seemed. But now, he’s acting like nothing happened.”

Tony’s face scrunched up. 

“We will get him, believe me.”

“No – I- my-“ he huffed, shifting again as best as he could in the bed. “It’s just my ear, it itches. I just want to-“

“It’s better if you leave it alone,” Rhodey said, swallowing again as he looked at the heavy bandaging around his head holding the packaging in place against his ear. “It’s – damaged. Still infected. The doctors are debating surgery to help the skin heal.”

“Great,” Tony muttered darkly. “I’m a fuc*ing mess,” he added, frustrated. 

“Don’t get worked up, you need to stay calm.”

“Calm?” Tony snapped, breath catching in his chest, making him cough. “Don’t tell me to calm down! This whole situation is a – it’s just a mess. Everything’s a mess.”

“We can fix it.”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, and Rhodey wondered if he’d fallen back to sleep. But then started talking again, voice softer than before. 

“Is Pepper here? I mean, has she – called or anything?”

Rhodey shook his head. “No, but she would have no way of contacting you here. Fury has people keeping an eye on her. She’s fine. I was going to call her, but then I just didn’t want to drag her into this, put a target on her back either. I’m sure she’s thinking exactly the same thing in maintaining her distance.”

“Here?”

“What?”

“Why couldn’t she contact us here? Where are we?”

“We had to take you to Wakanda.”

“What?” 

Rhodey steeled himself for what he knew was to come.

“I’m – what – why? You can’t – this means I’m the fugitive and Ross-“ He paused to cough again, sweat beading his forehead. “I’m – this puts Ross in the right. It means I ran. It makes me the-“

“We had no choice!”

“What!”

“Look, you were dying, and I mean dying fast. We had to take you to Wakanda. It’s the only place where you can be safe, where Ross can’t get to you. And the medical innovation here – I’m not kidding Tony, anywhere else and I’m not sure you’d still be with us.”

“No – no, I have to – where’s my phone?” He grabbed hold of the bed rail with his good arm, started to pull himself up and then yelled out as agony spiked through his body, making him drop back against the bed, chest heaving, face scrunched in pain as the beep of his heart rate monitor started to speed up.  
“You need to calm down, Tony; your heart, it can’t take this.”

“I have to fix this,” he groaned, trying to sit up again, this time getting a little further before collapsing back against the bed in agony once more. “I need to go back,” he gasped, chest heaving.

“I need some help here!” Rhodey yelled, “I need some assistance, now!” He moved over to Tony, as close as he could get in his chair. He reached over, stretching, to hold his hand against the man’s forehead, pushing his head back gently against the pillow. The skin was still uncomfortably warm.

“You have to stop, calm down, please. Your heart – it really can’t take the strain.”

Tony seemed to be listening to reason again as he squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them he looked confused, the pain still visible as they watered. “I got my heart fixed,” he said weakly, gritting his teeth, looking almost worried. “I got rid of the reactor,” he explained.

A nurse rushed into the room and Rhodey couldn’t help but glare at her. “He’s in pain, confused and very stressed. You need to give him something to calm him down, now.”

The nurse glanced down at the patient, nodding her agreement as she emptied a syringe into one of the tubes leading into a port in his good arm.

“It’s okay Tony,” Rhodey hushed, patting him on the forehead again. “We’re going to fix this, I swear, I promise you. We can fix this.”

Tony looked up at him, eyes glazing over as the new medication reached his system, calming him, but making him drowsy too. “Some things can’t be fixed,” he whispered as his eyes slowly closed once more. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! THANK YOU so much for the kind comments you left on chapter 16!  
> I'm worried you are going to get fed up of these "chatty chapters" but I do love writing them!  
> Please, please, PLEASE keep reading AND commenting! (I just love the comments!!!)
> 
> Thanks x


	18. Chapter 18

Clint sat up on his bed, head resting against the wall as he drummed his fingers against his legs. Blood slowly dripped onto his trousers, but he ignored it and continued to stare out of the window to his left. Although the window was broken, he had put his first through it earlier, it didn’t obscure his view of the sunrise. It was beautiful.

He had been unable to sleep, after reading the file Natasha had left him. He had leafed through it quickly, as soon as she left, before realising what information the documents held. He had lowered himself onto the edge of the bed to study the pages more carefully. He read through the papers, it was evidence really, depicting the different injuries Tony was being treated for in the medical centre. 

His stomach had tightened as he had read on, and on, about the badly broken arm, his bruised and broken ribs, one of which had punctured a lung. It noted the significant internal bleeding, which was to be expected, given the intensity of the damage to his body, so Clint wasn’t surprised. He had winced as he skim read the details of the burns to Tony, his ear was severely hurt, and responsible for a lingering infection the man’s body was still struggling to fight off. His fingers, apparently broken, were missing fingernails, in their place lived more third degree burns. 

Clint rubbed a hand over his face, accidentally smearing a little blood across his cheek as he remembered turning the pages, to read on about the electricity burns scattered across the man’s chest, back, neck and arms; over 45 different burn marks had been documented. Clint remembered getting hit by a taser once, years ago, it had knocked him out for thirty minutes and left him shaking, weak and nauseous for hours after. That had been one blast, Tony had taken almost fifty, no wonder his heart had given out so many times.  
It was clear that Tony had been viciously beaten and tortured, methodically, over the weeks he had been held. Then the team had broken in to rescue him, and Ross had shot him, on top of everything else. The gun shot alone could have killed him, it had nicked a kidney, but somehow he was still here, still hanging on. And then Clint himself had gone and abandoned the man, taken away the team’s only method of transportation, effectively stranding them all in the prison. After the description of Tony’s injuries, more details of Tony’s condition followed, different reports detailing daily summaries of his progress, the treatments in place, the decision to put him on the ventilator, into a medically induced coma; notes on his heart, and how his stopped seven times in the first ten days… How was this man still here, still alive, after everything he had been put through? 

“Jesus,” Clint muttered to himself, still unable to push the information from his mind.

He hadn’t been expecting the pages and pages of photographs stapled to the back of the folder. It made sense, he supposed, to document everything, it was evidence against Ross after all. It was also evidence of Natasha’s anger at him. Showing him these photos, images of the injuries and wounds inflicted upon his friend; Natasha was punishing him. He flicked through the pages quickly, not wanting to stare at the photographs, he knew Tony hadn’t consented to any of this, and he was sure he wouldn’t want anyone to see what had been done to him, least of all in high definition. 

He had briefly glanced at the pictures before dropping the folder onto his bed and pacing the room back and forth as he tried to control his breathing and push everything out of his mind. An hour later and he had picked the folder back up to carefully study each photograph, knowing he owed it to Tony, somehow, to at least understand what he had been through. 

He couldn’t sleep after that. He had paced, done some sit ups, then laid staring at the ceiling for a while with his arms folded behind his head. He wanted to see Tony, to apologise for leaving him, but to also explain himself, and why he had left. He had panicked, he had been worried about his family. He knew Tony would understand, the man had warned him, after all. But it didn’t stop him from feeling frustrated with the whole situation and his involvement in it. 

He had tried to open the window, to cool down, but it was locked. In his frustration he had punched the glass three times before it had smashed, the shards cutting into his fist, it hurt, as the glass bit into his skin, and he welcomed it. He had taken himself to the bathroom to run his hand under the water to clean the cuts. But as he saw his reflection in the mirror he put the same hand through that too. 

He had wrapped his bleeding fist in a towel and sat back down on the bed, still breathing heavily. The bleeding slowed and eventually stopped, his fist felt swollen and tight, he clenched it every few minutes, the pain helping him to control his thoughts. By the time morning had arrived he had discarded the bloodied towel on the floor, pushed the folder beneath a pillow and had sat still and watched as the sun slowly rose. It had been truly beautiful.

He was startled out of his trance like state by a knock on his door. His neck was stiff as he turned to stare at it, but nobody entered. He realised they were waiting for him to respond and it surprised him. “Um, come in?” Clint responded, and he was taken aback as King T’Challa entered his room.

The man entered slowly, taking in the state of the room and its occupant. He stopped a foot away from Clint, hands clasped behind his back.

“Mr Barton. I wanted to stop by and check on you before I leave on some official business.”

“Your Highness,” Clint said respectfully as he climbed off of the bed and stood up.

“You have injured yourself. I will have somebody come in to take a look at that.”

“It’s fine, don’t bother.”

“I will also ensure the damage to the room is restored.”

“I thought I was a prisoner?”

T’Challa sighed as though bored. “I am not sure what you are, right now. But whatever you are, it is done by your own hand. You left your teammates, in battle, and in need. A true warrior would not behave in this manner.”

Clint looked down, guilt fighting with bitterness on his features. “I needed to make sure my family were safe.”

“And were they?”

Clint nodded. 

“Then I am glad to hear that. You are to be detained here, Mr Barton, until my other guests collectively agree what is to be done with you. They are rightfully angry right now, and they need space. But whilst you are confined to you room, you are not to consider yourself a prisoner. I have men on the door who will get you whatever you need or desire. But you will not leave this room, not for the moment.”

“So I’m just grounded?” Clint mocked. He swallowed hard as T’Challa stared hard at him. “Can they get me something to drink?”

“As I said before, they will bring what you ask.”

“Can I speak to Nat again?”

“Our guests have the freedom to visit you if and when they wish to do so. They are not restricted in their access to you.”

Clint nodded. T’Challa looked ready to leave, so Clint quickly jumped in. “Do you think I could, speak to Tony? If he doesn’t mind, that is?”

T’Challa sighed again, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m afraid Mr Stark is in no condition for visitors. He is not well.”

“I know. Nat gave me a file. It’s not good.”

“No, it is not good. Mr Stark has suffered greatly, and here in Wakanda we will do all we can to support his recovery and wellbeing.”

Clint sensed the unspoken threat. “I understand.”

“I’m glad that you do. Good day.”

*

Wanda headed into the shared kitchen area and faltered as she saw Natasha sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through some notes on her phone. Natasha looked up and stared at Wanda who took a tentative step back. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“Don’t leave on my account.”

Wanda nodded and headed over to the coffee machine and poured herself a drink. “Would you like one?”

Natasha shook her head. Wanda nodded again and began to leave the room.

“You don’t have to tip toe around me,” Natasha snapped. “I’m not going to bite your head off.”

Wanda slowly turned around to face her, then stepped over to the table to take a seat opposite her. “You know I can read minds right?” She went red as she saw the anger cross  
Natasha’s face as she put her phone down. “I mean – not consciously, I don’t mean to. I mean, I can go deeper, if I wish, but I don’t. I don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy. But I still pick up things, things I can’t shut out.”

“So what do you ‘pick up’ from me?”

Wanda smiled shyly. “You are distrustful of me. I sense a bitterness, almost jealousy, at my relationship with Clint.”

Natasha scoffed. “Trust me, after what he’s done, you’re welcome to him.”

“You don’t think I am mad with him, for leaving us all there, before?”

“Are you?”

“Of course. He Left me there too you know. It was reckless and selfish.”

“He only got involved with any of this because he came to rescue you from the compound in the first place.”

“I didn’t ask him to, and I didn’t want to go. Steve sent him to get me, Natasha, and I honestly tried not to involve him. But he talked me around, so I left with him,” she shrugged her shoulders as she finished. “I don’t see that it’s much different than your own actions in the airport. We were all confused, unsure of the right path to take.”  
Natasha nodded in a ’fair enough; manner. 

“I also sense other things in your presence, not all bad, but the sense of blame always lingers.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened!” Natasha snapped.

“Not now, but before, with Ultron.”

Natasha sighed, rubbed a hand over her forehead, she did not want this conversation. “I guess I see Ultron as the start of all of this… unravelling.”

“And you blame me, for Ultron.”

Natasha looked up at Wanda as she replied. “Not entirely. Tony created Ultron, with Banners help. But you planted the seed, you drove him to it. I guess I blame you all collectively. But I don’t, I don’t actively blame you Wanda. You were just a kid, and I understand. Grief can twist you, make you make bad decisions. I understand why you wanted to destroy him, and us, before.” She laughed slightly, before adding, “I’ve been there myself, a long time ago.”

Wanda looked down. “I am not proud of my actions, before. I hoped that joining the Avengers would be a way to atone for my sins. It’s not gone very well so far.”

“We all make mistakes, every single one of us. That’s what landed us in this mess.”

Wanda smiled slightly. “When I am around you and Clint, I can’t help but sense the bond between you. It reminds me of Pietro and I. I miss it. I really miss it. And Clint was good to me, after I lost him. I will always be grateful to him for that.”

“Yeah,” Natasha said quietly. “But he really messed up this time.”

“Yes,” Wanda agreed. “He really did.”

Natasha looked serious again. “I don’t want to pry, but does Tony, do you ever sense things around him. Does he blame you for Ultron?”  
Wanda smirked. “We don’t spend that much time in the same area, it’s not often I pick anything up from him. But no, I have never sensed blame from him. I’ve picked up guilt, before, but whenever I have been around him, it just feels like there is so much in his head, it’s difficult to make sense of any of it. But I try not to take anything from him, I think he is mostly uneasy of me, he certainly doesn’t trust me.”

Natasha nodded. “I was just curious. And he doesn’t trust many people, don’t take it personally. Have you seen him, here?”

Wanda shook her head. “No. I passed by, near the medical centre, a few days ago. I was going to the pool,” she explained, and Natasha nodded, she knew you had to pass the medical centre to get to the Olympic sized indoor pool. “My head, suddenly just seemed to explode. I was surprised, I wasn’t ready for it.”

Natasha leant forwards in her chair, intrigued. “Does that happen often?”

“No, only once or twice, always in extreme circumstances.”

“What did you pick up?”

Wanda shook her head. “Just, emotion. Lots of emotion, all mixed up, I think that’s what made it so powerful. I felt pain and fear and confusion. Panic, really. I knew it must be Stark, so I left. I ran back to the main rooms, and I haven’t been back to the pool or anywhere near the centre. I don’t think he would feel very safe with me around.”

“Why didn’t it happen before, in the Raft? You were right there, until Ross set his scanner off?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he wasn’t conscious, he was barely alive? I don’t know.” She smiled again. “Sometimes I wish I had a user manual. To help me understand all this.”

Natasha smiled again slightly. “I bet.”

*

Tony’s face brightened as he saw Rhodey wheel himself into his room, slowly covering the distance between the door and the bed. 

“Hey,” he greeted. His voice was slightly slurred on the edges, but he looked better. His beard had been trimmed short. It wasn’t the usual crisp cut with clean lines and sharp edges, and despite the bruises that still lingered on his face, he looked more like himself.

“Hey,” he patted him on his shoulder gently. “You look better. You shave yourself?”

Tony laughed slightly as he lifted his potted arm and heavily wrapped fingers from the mattress. “With this hand? No. One of the nurses did it for me. T’was itchy.”

“You look better.”

“I feel better.” He paused. “It all feels a bit dull around the edges, but I think that’s the medication. But the pains not too bad.”

“Good, that’s good.” Rhodey didn’t mention the mild sedatives they had been giving him, after his panic attack a few nights ago. They couldn’t afford to risk putting pressure on his heart anytime soon. Rhodey felt bad that he didn’t know, but he knew there was a chance Tony would argue against it, and it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. And Rhodey was his next of kin and had acted as his proxy when Tony had been unconscious, he saw this decision as an extension of that trust. “You sleeping okay?”

Tony nodded. “They’re knocking me out on a night. Normally I’d complain, but the rest is good.”

Rhodey smiled again warmly, glad to hear his friend taking this more seriously than he expected.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tony said, cautiously. “How did we get out? I mean, why? I – I remember Clint and Nat, I think – was Steve there?”

“They all were,” Rhodey said carefully. “Steve, Clint and Nat. Wanda and Sam. The guy running around calling himself the Ant Man. And T’Challa, he came too.”

Tony nodded, and without saying anything, Rhodey knew something was wrong. His earlier spirit seemed to have faltered somehow. 

“What’s wrong? I know we fought with them before, but they did the right thing in the end. It’s what we would have done.”

Tony shook his head. “I tried to kill Barnes, Rhodes. In Siberia. I can’t even remember if I told you this or not, before, but I tried to kill him. Steve stopped me. Managed to fight me off. Why would he come for me?”

“Come on, Tony. It’s Steve. He’s made some bad decisions recently, I’ll grant you that. But he tries to do the right thing. Getting you out of there was clearly the right thing to do.”

He seemed to perk up suddenly. “Have you spoken to any of them?”

“I’ve seen Natasha. She was sat with you a lot, when you were first brought in. She’s the one who figured out you were missing. She and Fury alerted the others.”

“Not Natasha, or Fury,” he said, sounding slightly more distressed. “The others. The others. Have you spoken to them? Are they here?”

“Yes, they are, everyone is here. I’ve seen Rogers, in passing. That’s about it. I haven’t – why – what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, smiling again. But Rhodey could see through it, he knew the smile wasn’t genuine.

“Seriously, you’re going to lie to me right to my face, after everything we’ve been through?”

Tony sighed. “I’m just thinking about… what they want. Or need. Why I’m here. They must need something.”

Rhodey was stunned into silence for a moment. “What? Tony, Tony – no. No! They brought us here to help us. Because Ross went crazy and nearly killed you. They don’t – I – they don’t have an ulterior motive. Trust me, there is no agenda here. I know we took different views on the Accords, I know we fought before – and even with whatever happened with Barnes – they brought us here to help us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Tony frowned. “No, that’s not right. They left me there the first time.” He shook his head slightly. “If they came back, it means they need something.”

“What do you mean, the first time?”

“When Steve broke everyone out. I was there, in the Raft. They didn’t need me then,” he shrugged his shoulders, wincing from the stiffness in them. “It’s okay,” he said, seeing the anger on Rhodey’s face. “I’m just wondering, what they need. It must be important, if they had to go back there just for me,” he trailed off.

“I don’t know what happened before, but I know they wouldn’t just willingly leave you there. They made a mistake, or you’re mistaken. Did Ross tell you this? He was probably messing with your head.”

Tony laughed slightly. “Who do you think broke Clint, Sam and Wanda out? And that other guy? I heard it all, the Raft was attacked. I was the only one left, Ross was very… unhappy.”

“Maybe they didn’t know you were there.”

“I tried to kill Barnes, then Steve breaks everyone out but me? I don’t think that’s coincidence.”

“Why did you try to kill Barnes anyway?” Rhodey was exasperated. 

Tony seemed to pale. “I don’t to talk about it,” he muttered. “I made a mistake,” he finished lamely. “Can you speak to Steve, maybe? Ask him what they want?” His frown seemed to grow. “I’m not going against the Accords, Rhodey, they can’t make me – I’m not- I won’t“

“Hey, hey-“ Rhodey cut him off. “Nobody is going to make you do anything. I promise, okay?”

Tony nodded. “Sure.” It was obvious he didn’t mean his words. 

“I mean it.”

Tony nodded with gritted teeth. "So do I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter posted on schedule - phew!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is sticking with this! As always, please leave a comment to let me know what you think! And to let me know that people are still reading/interested in this!
> 
> I still have quite a bit of ground left to cover :)
> 
> Thanks for reading x


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!   
> I have mapped out the plot for the rest of this story now I just need the time to write it!  
> Thank you as always for your comments, they really made my day and encourage me to keep writing. So please, please, PLEASE keep leaving comments and let me know what you think! (Good and bad!)  
> Thanks xx

Rhodey entered the communal area the Avengers had been given to share inside the Kings compound, he’d avoided it so far during his stay. He saw Steve and Sam seated on one of the large sofas, heads bent over some papers as they talked together quietly. Rhodey wheeled up behind the two and then cleared his throat.

“Rogers, you got a minute?” His tone wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either.

Both men startled as they turned around to face Rhodey. It was the first time either of them had seen him since his and Tony’s rescue from the Raft. 

“Of course,” Steve said, standing up then sitting back down awkwardly, not sure what do in light of Rhodey’s wheelchair.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Sam said, looking both uncomfortable and guilty. He left the room without meeting Rhodey’s eyes.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, as Rhodey manoeuvred his chair so they were sat facing each other. 

“What happened with you and Tony in Siberia?”

Steve was surprised. “What?”

“Tony wouldn’t tell me, so I’m asking you.”

“Look, you know how it was between us, we were both - on the edge, I guess. We clashed and we, we fought. It got out of hand, I admit.”

“Yeah, that’s cute. I’ll ask you again, what happened in Siberia? Tony said he tried to kill Barnes. Is that true?”

Steve looked down at his hands as he nodded.

“Well, why? That just doesn’t sound like Tony. He must have had a reason, a good reason.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Bucky, he was responsible for – I mean – he, when he was under Hydra control – he, The Winter Soldier, he killed Tony’s parents.”  
Rhodey was shocked, he wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. “What? Barnes killed the Starks!”

“Yes. Zemo played us a video, footage of them as they were attacked... murdered.”

“They were killed? It wasn’t an accident?”

“No. It was The Winter Soldier. Tony was – upset. He, he just exploded, went crazy.”

Rhodey closed his eyes. “So he – he saw it?”

Steve nodded again, looking guilty. “That’s not all. I – he found out that I, that I already knew, and that I had kept it from him. He didn’t take it well.”

Rhodey clenched his fist as he shook his head. “You kept this from him!” He wanted to rage and shriek and hit something but he honestly didn’t have the energy. He just shook his head sadly.

“I wanted to tell him, I just didn’t know how. And then the more time that passed, the harder it became.”

Rhodey continued to stare at him. “But yeah, I was also trying to protect Bucky. His body killed them, but, it wasn’t him – he didn’t know-“

Rhodey held a hand up to quieten him. “I don’t care about the man hunt for Barnes,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m worried about Tony.”

Steve nodded. “How is he?”

Rhodey sighed. “Not good. He’s stable, more coherent when he’s awake, but he’s still weak. Heavily drugged, for the pain mostly, but it can make him confused. He’s also – well,   
he’s worried, scared even, though he wouldn’t ever admit to that.”

“About Ross? He’s safe here. And we will get Ross. Look, I know Tony and I were at odds with each other on this one, and we let things get out of hand. Maybe I’m more to blame for that than I’d like to admit, but – whatever’s happened between us, we’re still on the same side. He’s safe, Ross won’t get anywhere near him.”

“It’s not Ross he’s worried about,” Rhodey stated bluntly. “It’s you, all of you, really.”

“What?” Steve almost whispered.

“He wants to know what you want from him, what you need from him. He’s worried it’s something he can’t give you, kind of like with Ross.” He knew the last part was a cheap shot, but it was worth it, to see Rogers shudder slightly. “He’s trying to figure out what you need so badly that was worth getting him out of there and bringing him here.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Neither did I, until he told me that you left him in the Raft.”

Steve shook his head, concerned. “He must be confused – we got him out, Rhodey you were there.”

Rhodey swallowed hard. “I’m talking about the first time.”

“What? WHAT? Tony was there?” Steve jumped up and began to pace, shaking his head violently. “No. No – it was just – he was – was he – did Ross have him, when I broke the others out? Please, tell me that’s not right?”

From the panicked look on the man’s face, Rhodey believed him to be telling the truth. “He was there.”

“But Clint said he’d been there, earlier, with Ross, still working with him?”

“I don’t know the details, but it’s pretty obvious that at some point Tony was held there against his will,” Rhodey muttered dryly.

“I can’t believe we left him there,” Steve said, feeling sick. “I didn’t know – I can’t believe we, we just left him...” He sunk back down onto the sofa holding his head in his hands.

“He thinks you left him there because he tried to kill Barnes.”

“What?” He shook his head violent again “He thinks I would do that? No, no, I stopped him from killing Bucky, but I wouldn’t-“ He paused for a second. “I would never do that,   
Rhodey, least of all not to Tony,” his voice was sincere.

“He thinks, that the only reason you got him out of there is because you need something from him. And he’s worried what you might do, if it’s something he doesn’t want to give. He’s in no position to fight right now.”

Steve started to breathe heavily. “I would never, ever-“

Rhodey cut him off. “I know that isn’t the case, Rogers, despite everything that happened between you, I would never believe that of you. And I tried to tell him this. But after everything he’s been through, his head’s a mess. But it’s true, he does believe you only brought him out of there for a reason. Meaning he also thinks you willingly left him there the first time. He thinks you were punishing him.”

“I need to see him!“ Steve said, getting up again.

“Sit your ass down!” Rhodey snapped. “You don’t go near him, not yet. He’s weak and he’s hurt and he’s scared – you’re the last person I want near him. No offence, Captain, but you need to stay away for now, for Tony’s sake.”

“I need to explain!”

“I’ll talk to him, not that he’ll believe me, but I’ll do my best. Try to make him understand that the only thing you need his help with is in taking Ross down.”

Steve didn’t look happy, but he nodded his agreement.

*

When Rhodey made it back to Tony’s room later, he could tell something was wrong. The man was sitting up in bed, pillows bunched behind his back to keep him upright. But his   
good hand was clenched tightly into fist, he was holding his potted arm and bandaged fingers across his chest stiffly, his face was grey and small beads of sweat lined his hairline.

“Hey,” he greeted weakly, smiling, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey man,” Rhodey said, slowly making his way over to the bed, still learning how to navigate the chair.

“You sitting up now?”

“Got tired of staring at the ceiling,” he said quietly, his words clipped.

“You okay? If your tired I can come back later?”

Tony hesitated. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said, leaning in closer, but then he decided to drop it.

“Any news yet, on Ross?” It was the first question Tony asked every day, Rhodey always gave the same negative response. 

“We’ll get him though, I swear. He can’t have covered his tracks that well, he’ll slip up.”

“Sure,” Tony said, chewing on his lip again. 

“How about you, how you feeling? I head the infections finally retreating,” he nodded towards the heavily padded and bandaged ear.

“Yeah,” he said unenthusiastically. “Go me.”

“You know this is going to take time,” Rhodey chided. “You just have to take this one step at a time.”

“I’m not in a rehab programme,” Tony snapped. 

“No, you’re in hospital,” Rhodey snapped back. “What’s wrong with you today? If you don’t want visitors you just have to say.”

“I’m just feeling a little… sore today, that’s all. Sorry,” he muttered.

Rhodey started to turn. “If you’re in pain, I’ll get the nurse. She can up the doses, you know that. You shouldn’t be feeling it.”

“I want to feel it,” he gritted out.

“What?”

“I’m sick of feeling numb and hazy, I told them no pain meds from today.”

“What? You are joking, right?”

“How will I know what progress I’m making if I can’t measure the pain myself? It’s misleading, thinking its okay, when the drugs are masking reality.”

“The drugs are there to make it easier! Why stop them? They just make you more comfortable, they don’t do anything else.”

“They were making me feel slow, I need to feel for myself how I really am.”

“And how’s that working out for you, huh? Because you look like you’re too scared to move because of the pain, that you’re insisting on feeling! This is just stupid Tony, I’m sorry,   
but it is.”

“Well it’s what I want.”

“It serves no purpose, you’re just adding to your own suffering, why?”

“Because I want to,” he snapped. 

“Maybe I should go,” Rhodey said sadly, shaking his head. “I spent too much time watching Ross and his men hurt you, before. I’m not going to sit here and watch you do it to yourself.”

“Suit yourself,” Tony muttered as he watched Rhodey leave.

*

The nurses came in periodically throughout the day, each time offering Tony the chance to change his mind, and each time he stiffly declined. They administered other drugs, to help his heart, his healing, and he made them show him each item before it was injected into his IV line, suspicious they would try and slip something else in. 

After a few hours of sitting up, his back started to ache. He tried to wriggle down the bed to shift position, and hissed as fire burned through his bullet wound. A nurse came in and helped him move so he was laying back down, he didn’t notice her leave afterwards, too consumed with the way his body hurt, it hurt in so many different ways, in so many different places.

As evening came, he started to drift off to sleep, and accidentally shifted his head to the left. Pain exploded through his ear, it seemed to ratchet up and down his neck. He twisted to his other side, felt his bullet wound pull and tear, and then suddenly he was retching, coughing up bile and spit down himself, unable to move fast enough, or move at all, to lean over the side of the bed. 

Natasha had been waiting outside, debating on if she should visit him or not. She’s been there a lot before, when he was too out of it to tell. Now he was coherent, she was worried her presence might anger him. She rushed into the room on hearing the commotion, then hushed him as she gently eased him back against the mattress, before eyeing the mess on his hospital gown. 

“You need to get changed,” she said gently. “I think it’s time for some morphine?” She raised her eyebrow in question, giving him the choice, hoping he would make the right decision, knowing how much it would hurt, just getting him out of the flimsy material that covered him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, waving his good hand towards the mess, snagging on one of the wires running into it.

“It’s fine,” she said, then ran her hand through his hair, he closed his eyes and seemed to relax a little. “I understand, why you’re refusing the pain killers. But I think it’s too soon, to be taking this type of action. You need to get stronger first, then you can start pushing yourself.”

Tony looked up at her, then looked away sheepishly as he nodded. She smiled and quickly administered the medication, watching as the tension lines in his face seemed to ease slightly.

“Okay,” she said, sighing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Jus’ leave it,” he said drowsily. 

“No way,” she said, humour in her voice. “You want to replace one infection with another?”

“Just sick,” he said, eyes still closed.

“Looks to me like you’ve ripped the stiches open on your hip,” she said. “And then been sick on top of it? I’d say we need take care of it.”

Tony looked down blearily, saw the blood staining his gown, covered in splotches of orange bile. “Damn,” he muttered. 

“Come on,” she said, gently pulling on his good shoulder and propping him up with a cushion. “Let’s get this off.”

“Trying to get me naked,” he said, holding still as she gently threaded the arm hole over his bandaged fingers. 

Natasha played along as she managed to get the gown off of him. She tried not to look directly at his chest, at the pink burn marks that littered his skin from the Taser. The bruise and scrapes had faded significantly, but it seemed that the pink patches of skin shined even brighter.

“Oh man,” she said, mocking disappointment. “If I'd known you had shorts on I wouldn't have bothered.”

Tony managed a weak smile at that, and it made her smile too. She grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped at his skin where the bile had leaked through, then mopped up the blood around the stained bandage on his lower stomach and covering his hip. 

“This will need re-stitching,” she said as she pulled the bandage back to peep beneath it. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

“Why?” he muttered.

Natasha looked up at him. “Because it needs stitching, and they will do a much better job than me.”

“Why are you helping me?” 

Natasha looked up, shocked and hurt as she stared him in the eye. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“We… fought?”

“So?”

Tony sank back into the pillow holding him up as the pain relief really took over. The numbness was coming back, but this time he welcomed it.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I thought you were mad.”

“We were mad at each other,” she said lightly, “but that’s okay, it happens. It doesn’t change my feelings for you, Tony.”

“Okay,” he said. “We’re still good then?”

“Of course. Always.”

She stood up, smoothed his hair back from his head again. “I’m going to go get a nurse to deal with those stitches. Do me a favour?”

“Huh,” he asked drowsily.

“Take the meds, idiot.” She reached over and kissed him gently on the forehead before leaving, and Tony smiled slightly, as he drifted back to sleep.

*


	20. Chapter 20

T’Challa called for a meeting with the Avengers after his return from official business. Rhodey attended, and was informed by Fury that they had been meeting regularly to gather evidence and plan a strategy against Ross. They didn’t have much, and whilst they had the evidence of the damage done to Tony, they couldn’t prove who had inflicted it, it was their word against Ross’. And given the fact that they were all branded fugitives for breaking the Accords and escaping from the Raft, the ball was firmly in Ross’ court. 

Rhodey slammed his hand against the table in frustration. “There were cameras all over that place, surely that’s our proof?”

T’Challa nodded. “We downloaded all of the footage from the Raft, but it’s heavily encrypted. My team are good, but they can’t break through the firewall protecting it.”

Rhodey shook his head. “He can’t be that good.”

“These people managed to shut down Friday, which I’ve been told should be impossible,” Steve cut in, the first time he had spoken throughout the meeting.

“What about Tony?” Everyone looked at Natasha who swallowed hard. “Tony could probably break through the firewall.”

“You can’t ask him to do that,” Steve said, shaking his head. 

“He needs to get Friday back up, if we stand a chance of getting to Ross.”

“Does he even know we have this footage?” Rhodey asked. 

Fury shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. I’m not sure how he’d feel knowing we have it. But it could be the only way of getting to Ross, and Tony could be the only one who can break the firewall.” He nodded his agreement with Natasha, then added, “It would also be a good way of finding out what topics he was questioned on, without actually debriefing   
him.”

“You want to debrief him?” Rhodey was angry.

“Did you just hear me? Getting the footage is a way of getting around debriefing him. But let’s be clear, we need to know what information Ross was after, if only to protect ourselves.”

“You’re not blackmailing him into breaking the firewall.”

“I’m not planning on blackmailing him at all!” Fury was angry at the accusation. “I’m just saying, we do need to know what they asked him about, and we do need to get into that footage. I’m being realistic here, that’s all. Let’s just ask him, see what he thinks.”

“It’s too soon,” Rhodey said. “He needs more time. He’s already paranoid that you only brought him here for a reason. You ask him to do this, he’ll think that’s why you broke him out.”

“That’s rubbish,” Fury said, still angry and defensive. “We only have the footage because we got him out. We went in for him, nothing else.”

“Rhodey’s right,” Steve said. “It’s too soon. T’Challa’s team can keep trying, and Tony can keep recovering. If we get desperate, we can mention it to him. In the meantime, leave him be. He’s got enough on his plate without any added pressure.”

“The longer we leave Ross, the stronger his position gets,” Fury argued. 

“I agree with the Captain,” T’Challa spoke with finality. “We will meet again next week and review our options.”

Natasha lingered in the room by Rhodey’s side, until everyone else had left. “You know we do need to talk to him about what happened. Not just to know what they wanted from him, but generally. He’s going to have to speak about it, if he’s going to get past this. Footage or not.”

Rhodey nodded. “I know, but not yet, it’s just too soon. He needs to get stronger first.”

Natasha nodded as she left the room.

*

Rhodey smiled in greeting as he wheeled himself into Tony’s room. He looked better today, sitting up against his pillows, no longer holding himself stiffly, he looked more comfortable.

“Hey sour patch, you got something for me?”

Rhodey grinned as he held up a sandwich. “Lunch? And no, it’s for me, actually.”

Tony groaned. “Come no man, I thought you were getting me a tablet.”

“And I will, when the doctors agree you’re strong enough.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you need to recover.”

“I’m rotting in this bed!” he said dramatically.

“Nope,” Rhodey said, not falling for the guilt trip. “You’re doing better, but you’ve still a way to go.”

“I’ve got like five drafts of leg braces in my head to get you out of that chair.”

Again, Rhodey didn’t take the bait. “I’m fine in this chair, I’ve gotten the hang of it. Let’s get you out of that bed first, then you can work on my legs.”

“Fine,” Tony said, sulkily. Then smirking to himself slightly, he added: “No time like the present.”

“Wait – what? No!” Rhodey watched with panic as Tony slowly unclipped the drips and wires feeding into his good arm, and began to shuffle himself across the mattress towards the edge of the bed. “No, no, this is a bad idea Tony, don’t even think about it!”

Tony ignored him, slowly making progress towards the edge of the bed, tongue protruding from between his lips as he concentrated on moving without disrupting any of his injuries.

“Nurse,” Rhodey shouted as he tried to move the chair to block Tony’s exit. “Nurse!”

A woman pocked her head around the door. “Need a hand?”

Rhodey grinned in triumph as Natasha moved into the room. “Busted,” Tony muttered, but continued on.

“You’re gonna need this.” Natasha pointed to the folded wheelchair she had dragged in behind her. 

“Aw what?” Rhodey grumbled. “Please say you don’t condone this, he can barely move, he shouldn’t be leaving his bed.”

Natasha smirked as she unfolded the chair, then gave Tony her arm as he reached the end of the bed. “I heard a rumour he was rotting in here, so thought some fresh air was in order.”

“Yep!” Tony agreed. Rhodey kept the frown on his face, but inside his spirits lifted, he hadn’t seen Tony look this relaxed, this pleased, in the weeks since his release. Maybe this was good for him. Natasha nodded at him as she pulled Tony’s good arm around her shoulder and helped steady him as his feet finally made contact with the ground. His groaned quietly as she helped turn him around and then he let out a long deep exhale of air as he was finally seated in the chair. 

“I see what you mean,” he said, screwing his face up in a mocking gesture to Rhodey. “This chair is comfy, no wonder you don’t want to get out of it.” He held his good hand up in apology as he realised he might have crossed the line. 

Rhodey nodded his head and forced a smile, not wanting to ruin the mood. “So where are we going exactly?” he asked. 

Natasha cut in before Tony could make any suggestion. “Outside. And I mean literally, just outside. Don’t get too excited. But the sun is shining, and the view’s amazing.”

Tony held up his injured hand. “Nat can you help a guy out? Not sure I can move this thing like this," he admitted. She moved behind him to push the chair for him, and Rhodey slowly followed. It took less than five minutes to navigate their way through the hallways and outside the medical centre. Natasha pushed them over to a park bench set into the grassy grounds and took a seat, leaving Rhodey and Tony side by side in their chairs. They stared out at the views silently, taking in the beautiful scene. 

The heat was nice, joined by a gentle breeze that stopped it from being overpowering. Tony closed his eyes and leant his head back as the breeze ruffled his hair. Rhodey leant forwards in his chair to look at Natasha. He nodded at her, and she smiled back, this had been a good idea. 

Thirty minutes past in almost silence, only broken by the sound of Rhodey eating his sandwich. Tony kept his eyes closed the entire time, his shoulders slumped in what looked like relaxation. 

“You guys okay if we head back? I promised the doctor we wouldn’t push it.”

Natasha wondered if Tony has fallen asleep, but then he opened his eyes and nodded tiredly. Rhodey headed straight back to the compound, leaving Natasha to steer Tony back to his room. They struggled slightly in getting him back into bed, it has been easier getting him out of it than back in it, he was more unsteady on his feet, the short trip had tired him. A nurse came over to reconnect the IV lines back into the port sticking into his good arm and he sighed, almost content. 

“You’ve got the appointment with the dental guy later,” Natasha reminded him, and saw him frown, he had forgotten. 

“Right,” he muttered, then tried to joke afterwards, “I’ll try and make sure I’m in.”

Natasha tapped him on his arm gently. “It will be fine. I’ll try and stop by later.”

“That’s okay,” Tony said, “don’t feel like you have to.”

“I’m sure I’ll have time,” she said, now reading something on her phone. “See you later.” She gently tapped him on the cast again. 

“Thanks,” he said to her retreating back, “going outside was… nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” she said. “Catch you later.”

*

True to her word Natasha dropped by Tony’s room, hours later. She had been working out in the gym and so wasn’t planning on staying long, her clothes were damp with sweat. She bounced into the room and then stopped as she took in the scene before her, her fury getting stronger with each passing second. 

A nurse was in the corner, writing some notes on the clipboard. Natasha had her pinned up against the wall, hand wrapped around her neck without making a sound. 

“What they hell’s going on,” Natasha demanded. The nurse looked up at her, terrified. “What have you done to him?”

The young nurse tried to explain, and Natasha released her, she fell to the floor gasping for breath. Natasha ignored her, rushing instead over to Tony’s bed, where she roughly ripped away the Velcro restraint holding his good wrist to the rail on the bed. She swore as she realised his injured arm had also been restrained, but released this one more gently, mindful of his fingers still covered in heavy bandages. She reached over to turn his head against the pillow slightly, making sure he wasn't laying on his ear, before quietly calling his name; he didn’t stir at all.

“You sedated him?” she asked, turning on the nurse who had picked herself up from the floor. 

“Yes, for his own safety.”

“Did you restrain him too, for his own safety?” she snapped. “How could you be so stupid!”

“It was just until the sedation kicked in, he was at risk of causing himself more damage-”

"It's already kicked in!" she snapped, pointing towards the bed. “What the hell happened?” Natasha snapped, grabbing the clipboard from the young woman’s hand and scanning the notes. 

“He, he got distressed, when the dentist was taking the mould.” 

“Mould?”

“He has to take a mould, first, of the patient’s mouth, before he can work on the implants to replace the missing teeth.”

“And he freaked out?” Natasha suddenly understood.

“He panicked, bit the dentist, then tried to attack him. He attacked two nurses who tried to calm him. A group of us had to restrain him, so we could inject the sedation to calm him.”

“Did he hurt himself?”

“He tore out some of the stitches again, the ones surrounding his gunshot wound. And his fingers had to be re-dressed. Other than that, he should be fine, but he should be out for a while, all night, hopefully.”

Natasha ran a hand over her mouth, she should have expected this, how could they all have been so stupid?

“Did he hurt anyone else?”

The nurse held a hand to her swollen neck gently. “Two nurses came away scratched and bruised, but nothing serious. The dentist needed six stitches to the bite wound in his hand, but he seemed quite understanding of the situation.”

“I understand why you had to restrain him, but please, don’t ever do that to him again. It will only fuel his fear.”

“I know, but we had his best interests at heart. I was going to remove him, after I had finished my notes.”

“I know.” She moved back over to Tony where she looked him over, but he looked fine, just out of it, and that was probably for the best. “I’m, I’m really sorry about grabbing you, earlier.”

The nurse looked down timidly. “That’s alright.”

“I should go,” Natasha said awkwardly. “I’ll stop by in the morning. If he wakes, tell him I came to visit him?”

“Of course.”

She held her hand over his damaged one gently. One step forwards, two steps backwards, she thought to herself. Tony never too the easy way out.

*

“Jarvis, activate the thrusters!”

Tony shot up in bed, gasping for breath frantically, arm pressed against his ribs protectively, the sudden movement jostling his injuries. He open and closed his eyes repeatedly as he loudly gasped for breath, on the edge of hyperventilating. He moved his good arm from his ribs and swiped at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand as he slowly took in his surroundings. 

“Phew,” he whispered to himself shakily as he leant back against the mattress, shrugging the last of the dream off. 

His face scrunched up in anger as he saw the man seated at his bedside. “God damn it,” he grunted, banging his good fist against his cover. “Doesn’t anyone know the meaning of the word “privacy” in here?” he spat out sulkily.

“Bad dream?” Fury raised an eyebrow.

Tony ignored the question. “You know you can visit in daylight hours? Actually, I’d prefer it. I’m sure we already spoke about the creepiness that is watching me sleep.”

“I just stopped by,” Fury commented, undaunted. “Thought you would be asleep, heard they sedated you earlier."

Tony huffed, face going pink with embarrassment. “They did.”

“So,” he folded his hands together over his crossed legs as he smiled. “Bad dreams?”

Tony didn't respond, Instead he chose to just glare at the man.

“What was it, Ross?”

Tony shook his head as he opened his mouth to respond, Fury cut him off before he could speak. “Your parents?”

Tony’s eyes burned with anger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t know, you know,” Fury said lightly, again ignoring Tony’s previous comment. “I’m as shocked as you. I always thought it was an accident, tragic. Somehow this feels so much worse.”

Tony nodded, now intent on studying the nails on his good hand. He dropped it back to the bed when he remembered that beneath the bandaged that swathed his other hand, no nails remained. 

“I heard you had a run in with the dentist earlier.”

Tony shook his head. “I, just, I uh, I panicked. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I thought so. You don't need to apologise, he was pretty understanding. He managed to take the mould of your mouth after they knocked you out, so you don’t have to go through that again. He should have the implants ready in a few days. He suggested they put you out before they go in, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Tony said quietly, knowing he would probably flip out again. He’d felt fine, before, glad to be getting his teeth fixed, but as soon as the man touched his gums to try and take the mould, he’d freaked out, thinking he was back in the Raft, and he had fought back.

“The sooner that’s sorted, the better,” Fury said, trying to close the conversation down. “One thing to stop worrying about. But that’s not why I’m here, I wanted to talk to you about Barnes.”

Tony’s eyes turned cold, defensive. “What about him?”

“I heard you tried to hurt him, before.”

Tony looked up at him tiredly. “I didn’t try to hurt him, I tried to kill him. And there’s no reason to tip toe around this, just ask me whatever it is that you want to ask.”

“Okay. Are you going to try and kill him again?”

Tony sighed. “Is he here?”

“Sort of.”

“Huh?”

“He’s gone back under. His idea. Was scared he’d go back into Winter mode. Doesn’t want to come back out until we can fix his mind.”

Tony shook his head. “You know that might be never right?”

“So, are you going to answer my question?”

“No,” he said, letting out a long breath. “I’m not. I was acting… irrationally, before. I was angry. I guess I just lost it.”

“That’s understandable, given the circumstances.”

“I’m not going to try and kill him again,” he repeated, as though reassuring himself. “I understand that he wasn’t in control of his actions, before.” He paused. “It’s no different than   
Clint, before with Loki, when you think about it.” 

“That’s true. That's a good way of looking at it.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near the guy,” he added, quickly, “we’re not going to be buddies, but as long as he stays in the ice we’ll be fine. When he comes back out… well, I should be well away from here by then, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Alright,” Fury said, clapping his hands together, not wanting to push him any further on Barnes. “There’s something else I want to talk with you about, while we're alone. Everyone thinks its too soon, so I agreed not to speak to you yet. Guess I lied," he smirked. 

Tony leaned forward, wincing slightly as he did so. “Go on,” he said impatiently.

“I’m not sure how you’ll feel about-“

“Just spit it out Nick!”

“Ross had cameras everywhere on the Raft. T’Challa got the footage, but they can’t decrypt it.”

Tony’s stared at him for a moment in silence. “Footage of… me?”

“Footage of everything, anything. We don’t know. But there were cameras in every room. If they were functional, then yeah. We’d have evidence of everything he did to you, and Rhodey, illegally. The way they treated Wanda too.”

“What did they do to her?” he sounded stressed.

“Nothing, just, they used a shock collar on her, to stop her form using her powers.”

Tony cringed at the word “shock.” He raised a hand to cover his mouth as he thought, Fury noticed the way it trembled. 

“I – you need me to do this?”

“T’Challa’s had his best on it, and trust me, they’re good. You might not be able to break through either, but right now, it’s our only shot. Ross is out there, calling for all of your arrests. This could be our proof, to stop him, fix the Accords, fix this whole mess.”

Tony shook his head slightly. “I can ask Friday-“ he stopped short, remembering that Friday had been disabled. “They shut Friday down,” he said heavily. “That should be impossible. And-“ He gently lifted his damaged hand and arm. “I’d be pretty slow on a keyboard.”

Fury shrugged. “You can dictate, instruct somebody else. Look-“ he held a hand on the man’s white cast, it seemed to shine out against the dull light of the room. “I don’t want to   
pressure you into this. You’ve got enough to deal with right now.”

“Yeah, priority one being stopping Ross.”

“No,” Fury said sternly. “The first priority has to be your recovery. But if you feel up to it, when you’re a little stronger, we’d welcome your help.”

Tony nodded, suddenly feeling like his skin was crawling, as he thought about people seeing what Ross did to him, how weak he was, the tales he had told Ross, anything to delay his punishment.

“Hey,” Fury shook his shoulder gently. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” Tony lied, “just tired.”

Fury smiled guiltily, knowing it was bullshit, knowing he had rattled Tony with his suggestion. “Do me a favour, don’t tell anyone about this conversation, Rhodey and Rogers especially.”

“Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Fury nodded. “He didn’t want to trouble you with this.”

Tony didn’t know what to think of that, so he pushed the thoughts of Steve alongside those of his friend Barnes, to the back of his mind, just behind the door he also used to lock Ross out of his thoughts too.

“Get some rest, we’ll talk about this later.” He smiled awkwardly, feeling bad for bringing the matter of Ross up and then leaving, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

“Sure,” Tony muttered, watching him leave. He laid back against the sheets tiredly, somehow knowing that sleep wouldn't come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone - as always, thank you for reading!!!
> 
> Somebody pointed out that Tony hasn't actually asked if Clint's family were okay yet, which was an oversight on my part! But they will have a talk, soon I expect!
> 
> Somebody else asked how much longer I'm expecting this to run, I'm only guessing, but I expect there will be another 3 - 5 chapters left. 
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading, and please, please, PLEASE comment!!!! It really encourages me to keep going :)
> 
> Thank you x


	21. Chapter 21

Rhodey entered Tony’s hospital room two days later, and was startled to see the bed unmade, but empty. He was about to call for a nurse when he heard the sound of the toilet flushing from the small en suite bathroom located within the far corner of the room. Rhodey watched with surprise as the door banged open and Tony emerged, leaning heavily against a walking frame as he took slow and unsteady, but very deiberate steps towards his bed. 

He stopped as he saw Rhodey, then looked down at the walking frame, his face reddening with embarrassment. “Well,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Make all the jokes you want,” he paused to take another long breath. “But this is so much better than having the catheter in.”

Rhodey winced. “I bet. It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

Tony made his way towards the bed, then chose to sit in the visitors chair instead, not wanting to face the battle of getting back into bed just yet. 

“It feels good,” he said. It was only a small step in getting his independence back, but it felt great.

“I bought you something,” Rhodey said, holding out a tablet. “Given that you’re following doctors orders, I’m hoping I can trust you to take it easy with this, and not go   
into ‘Tony-Stark-crazy-working-robotic-overdrive-mode.’ Okay?”

Tony grinned as he nodded his agreement, before reaching out and carefully clasping the tablet in his grip. He held it flat against his chest and made no move to put it down.

“Okay?” Rhodey repeated, waiting for Tony’s confirmation. 

“Fine, yes, got it,” Tony said pettily. “I won’t go overboard, mom!” He gave a half flinch as he realised what he had said, before adding, with more sincerity, “thanks.”

“Good.” Rhodey decided now was not the time to discuss his parents.

“Listen, can you, uh, get me some toiletries?” So far the staff in the centre had given him fresh clothing, but that was all. 

“Sure,” Rhodey said, raising an eyebrow. “Toothbrush, razor?”

“Shower gel too, the works,” Tony said, still holding the tablet flat against his midsection. 

“You going on a date or something?” Rhodey joked. 

“Yep, actually, I got a date with the shower.”

Rhodey frowned as he realised he was being serious. “It’s good that you’re walking again, but, is that wise, with your injuries? I mean, the dressings, what happens if they get wet?”

Tony nodded his head. “I cleared it with the doctor. I’m going to do it before they change the dressings. So, no harm, no foul.”

“Is this rushing things, a little? You don’t want to push too hard, give yourself a setback.”

Tony felt his face heat even more. “I know what I’m capable of!” he spat, angrily. “I just want a shower, is that too much to ask? It’s not like I’m going out clubbing, or building a new suit! Jesus, I just, I need a shower!”

Rhodey held his hands up in a defensive gesture, surprised with the angry outburst. “Easy, okay. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. The doctors said you’d be bed bound for a few more weeks at least, and here you are just walking around. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Tony snapped again. Then added a little quieter, “I’m sorry. I just really want a shower. I know it’s stupid, but it will make me feel a lot better. And I’m not exactly walking around, it took me almost ten minutes to make it to the bathroom, using a zimmer-frame. I always thought a sponge bath would be hot, but honestly, it’s just… awkward.”

Rhodey knew this was as close to an apology as he was going to get. “What are you going to do about the cast?”

Tony smirked slightly. “Use state of the art technology… They’re gonna cover it in plastic bags to keep the water out.”

“That’s… revolutionary.”

Tony huffed as he laughed quietly. “Oh yeah.”

They talked for almost an hour before Rhodey left, promising to return later with some toiletries. Tony remained seated in the chair next to his bed, tablet pressed flush against his chest. Eventually he got up, leaned heavily on the walking frame with his good arm and made it to his bedside where he placed the tablet beneath his pillow. It was foolish, nobody was going to take it away from him, but still. Better to be safe than sorry. This tablet was his only way of fighting back against Ross, of getting himself out of Wakanda, and, possibly, appeasing his ex-teammates, if he was able to stop Ross. Big if.

True to his word, Rhodey dropped by later, but Tony was napping in the chair so he left the wash bag on his bed and gently closed the door behind him, glad to see his friend resting. Tony woke a few hours later, feeling groggy, but determined, when he saw the wash bag. A nurse brought him a light lunch, which he ignored, instead asking her to help him wrap his hand and arm in plastic bags. The lady complied, and when the task was done, offered her assistance in helping him to the shower. He politely declined, then waited until she had left the room with his discarded lunch before taking any action. He knew he was pushing himself, he still felt very weak, but he wasn’t going to get better if he didn’t keep pushing forwards; and he knew he’d feel a hell of a lot better after a shower.

He’d agreed with the doctor that a nurse would stop by later that evening to change his dressings. He’d tried to negotiate with Tony, at first insisting that a nurse help him, or at least loiter in the room should he need assistance, but Tony had refused. He grimaced as he pulled himself up to his feet, then hobbled towards the medical bank at the side of his bed. He was now administering his own morphine, when needed, as agreed with the nurses, as he grew stronger he wanted to be in control of his own pain administration and he was determined to cut back when he could. But he gave himself a shot now knowing it was well needed, just standing hurt, and he was under no illusion that the shower would be pain free. He leant against the bed frame for a moment as he felt the warmth rush through him, followed by the numbness, easing the pain and relaxing his muscles. He waited another moment and then grabbed the wash bag, holding it on top of his cast, pressed against his chest, before leaning unsteadily against the walker one handed, making slow progress towards the bathroom.

*

Tony pushed the stroller against the closed bathroom door, then moved over to the sink set in the counter. There was a large mirror that he had avoided earlier, but now he forced himself to look at it, and he stared at his reflection for a long moment. His hair was too long, his facial hair was once again in need of a shave, and his eyes looked… tired. He had a few new scars decorating his face, pink and bright, but the bruises he expected to see were gone, having faded over the weeks he had spent in the medical centre, hell, month’s maybe. How long ago had all of this started? He had no idea, it had been hard to keep track of time since Siberia. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts he undid the hospital gown and gently shrugged it from his shoulders, careful not to disrupt the plastic bags covering his arm and hand, held to his skin with electrical tape, his idea. He looked in the mirror again, wincing as he took in the burn marks from the Taser. They stuck out against his pale skin, now a light peach colour as the skin slowly healed over the blisters.

He reached down to the white square bandage covering his lower stomach and hip, and held his breath as he pulled the corner of the surgical tape holding it to his skin away. It caught against some of the hairs on his stomach and he gritted his teeth, counting to three before ripping it off in one fast motion. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain flashed through him, despite the morphine – maybe he should have given himself a bigger dose? He traced his finger gently over the black stitches for a second, glad he couldn’t remember the feeling of actually being shot. He looked thin, he knew, his hip and collar bones were significantly more visible than he could ever remember, but his appetite was still slow to return.

He reached up with slightly shaking fingers and clumsily removed the bandages wrapped around his head, holding the padding against his ear. Once the bandage was removed he eyed the padding wearily before gently pulling it away. It stuck to the wound in places, and he huffed and swore as he finally pulled it free, taking some skin and puss away with it. He held onto the counter for a moment, taking heavy breaths, before twisting as much as was possible to look at his ear in the mirror. It was – not a pretty sight. The skin was blistered red in places, with blackened edges where the skin looked dead. The tip of his ear looked lumpy and misshapen, and he swallowed hard as he prodded at the lobe, almost gipping as some dry skin fluttered into the sink. He turned the tap on and watched as the skin was washed away by the clear water, almost mesmerised.

He sighed again and turned the water off before moving away from the counter, planting each step carefully before he reached up and pulled the shower curtain back. There was a seat set in the corner and a handle set into the wall, and he frowned before deciding to be sensible and carefully lowering himself onto the hard, plastic seat. He reached up and set the water going, on the hottest setting. He closed his eyes tightly, the water stinging as it hit his body, but it was a good hurt, he welcomed it.

He tilted his head to the side to try and stop the brunt of the spray from hitting his ear directly, then moved forwards, slightly hunched over, enjoying the feeling of the spray hitting his shoulders. He sat that way for a long time, feeling relaxed, truly warm and comforted, before getting out the shower gel and lathering himself up as best as he could, trying not to get the gel directly into his wounds.

Rhodey had brought him some shampoo, he hadn’t even considered that, but he welcomed it as he washed his hair with one hand. It was impossible to keep the lather away from his ear, so he just gritted his teeth and let the suds fall where they wished. It was over forty minutes later when he finally switched the water off and climbed from the shower on shaking legs. He wrapped one of the large towels hung on the wall around his waist, then got to work with the razor, leaning over the skink as he removed the overgrown stubble from his face, not bothering with his usual facial hair shaping, he took it all off, then spent another five minutes scrubbing at his teeth, savouring the minty taste. He rubbed the towel against his hair, reminding himself to ask about getting a haircut, then gently dabbed at his ear, trying not to look at the ruined skin directly as he patted it dry as gently as possible.

He pulled on some clean shorts, but was too tired to bother with the fresh gown, the nurse needed to redress the bullet wound anyway, so why bother? He made his way out of the bathroom and was surprised to see a nurse sat patiently waiting for him, latex gloves already on, a warm smile on her face.

“Let’s get these off of you first,” she said, indicating the dripping plastic bags that covered his arm. Tony held still as she removed them, and was pleased to see it had   
worked, the cast was still dry.

“Do you want to get into bed first?” she asked, and Tony nodded, accepting more help than before to get back onto the mattress. He was exhausted.

“You look tired,” the nurse muttered, making small talk. “But I’m sure the shower was worth it. I always feel better after a shower.”

Tony smiled slightly as he laid back against the pillows. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I lost track of time in there.”

“It’s fine, I’m in no rush. Do you want a shot, before we get started?” She motioned towards the port in his arm, and Tony only hesitated for a moment before nodding. Changing the   
dressings always hurt, an extra shot would take the sting out of it, he’d just cut back again in the morning. The nurse administered the pain medication quickly, then got to work, first undressing the bandages covering his fingers. Tony decided he wouldn’t look, he didn’t want to see the damage done to his fingers, but he was asleep before the dressings were even removed.

*

He woke early the next morning, annoyed with himself for sleeping through the night. He slipped his good hand beneath his pillow and relished the feeling of triumph as he pulled the tablet out and turned it on. He sat up gently, ribs still protesting at any form of movement, then balanced the small screen between his knees as he watched the power load.

First things first, he had to get Friday back up. He felt a twinge of guilt that he was prioritising this over Rhodey, when he already had a pretty strong leg brace design thought out and ready to process, but Friday really did take priority for now. Rhodey next, he told himself, as the device flashed that it was ready for use. Time to get to work. 

He’d barely gotten started when a nurse came into the room to check on him, fussing over the readings from the heart monitor, which were good, and then trying to force him into eating breakfast, which he declined. He was as polite as possible, taking a slice of dry toast from the tray as a compromise, just to get her out of the room so he could continue on. He’d already gotten into his private Stark network drive through a backdoor only he knew about, now it was time to find, and hopefully restore, Friday. 

Progress was slow, working with one hand on basic tech, and he dropped the tablet from its grip between his knees twice, breaking his concentration, frustrating him. Natasha stopped by with lunch, which he intended to refuse, but his stomach rumbled at the sight of the tray of food she held, so he nodded his thanks and made small talk as he ate,   
trying to keep one eye on the screen as discreetly as possible.

“Who got you that?” Natasha asked, curious, and Tony stilled for a second, worried she would take it away.

“Rhodey. Just trying to catch up on things,” he stammered.

“Just don’t get too distracted by it,” she cautioned gently. “You need rest.”

“I’ve been sleeping over 10 hours a day for the last few weeks,” he said dryly.

“You obviously need it. What are you working on?”

Tony didn’t even hesitate. “Braces for Rhodes, the sooner I can get him out of that chair, the better.”

“That sounds good,” she said, watching him carefully. 

Tony swallowed down the last of his meal. “Yeah, I should really get back too it.”

Natasha smiled and nodded, thinking it was good for him to have a project, something to occupy his downtime with as he slowly recovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos people - I appreciate it!
> 
> I've had a little more free time recently so I managed to get this chapter out early, even if it is a bit of a filler chapter!
> 
> Annnddddd.... if I get enough comments, I'll do my best to get another chapter out again on Sunday!
> 
> As always, please keep the comments coming, and thanks for reading! :)


	22. Chapter 22

Progress was slow, and Tony was impatient. Early evening, he decided that two hands were certainly better than one, and so he gave himself a hit of morphine before carefully unravelling the bandages that covered his fingers. The broken bones had already set, he’d been assured of that days ago, the bandages were there to protect the still healing burns on the ends of his fingers, where his nails had once been, before they had been removed. He held his hand out and looked at his fingers, they seemed thinner, paler than he remembered; and they were accompanied by the same gut wrenching smell that had lingered around his ear when he had removed the bandages there before his shower. The nurse had assured him then that the smell of the burnt flesh would lessen as it healed. He breathed through his mouth for a few moments until he got used to the smell, then gently touched the ends of his fingers with his good hand. They were red and blistered, one was an uncomfortable shade of green, but the pain was – minimal. He propped the tablet back up against his knees and tentatively set about it with both hands. It stung a little, but the drugs shielded him from the worst of it, and the work was much easier when he could use both hands, processing his thoughts into actions at a much better speed.

It took 28 hours for him to finally reconnect Friday, not including the different breaks to pacify his visitors and the nurses, or the few hours he had napped in between. He worked through the night unnoticed, and smiled tiredly as “Good to see you, Boss” finally flashed up on the screen in red and gold lettering. The comfort those words gave him seemed to shroud him with a feeling of safety. He leant his head back against the pillow as he felt his eyes well with tears of relief, he had done it. How they had managed to shut her down, he wasn’t quite sure, whoever had done it, they were good. But not as good as him. He’d reconnected her systems, using a ghost protocol so she would stay under the radar, for now. He was going to hold his cards close to his chest for a while, he didn’t want people knowing he had Friday back just yet, not until he knew for sure what his “team mates” would ask of him.

*

He felt infinitely better knowing Friday was back, but also exhausted. He put the tablet away, hidden once again beneath his pillow, knowing he needed rest, truly wanting to follow the doctors’ orders as long as was necessary. He closed his eyes then opened them again as he heard the tell-tale noise of Rhodey’s chair entering the room, the rubber wheels squeaking against the floor.

Guilt thrummed through him again as he saw the man struggle into the room, a happy smile on his face, even though Tony had once again placed his own needs before those of his friend. 

“Wow, you look – tired.”

“Yeah,” Tony lied, “couldn’t sleep much.”

Rhodey casually looked Tony up and down, pleased to see he wasn’t as glued to the tablet as he’d initially feared. Then he caught sight of his damaged fingers, exposed from their wrappings, and leaned over to get a better look.

“They look sore.” Tony had to agree with the statement. His finger ends looked worse than before, thanks to their endless use on the tablet, but it had been worth it, Friday was back. 

“They supposed to be unwrapped like that?”

Tony shrugged. “I wanted to take a look, now the bones have healed, and air’s supposed to be good for wounds.”

“Just go steady with them, okay? They look like they hurt.”

Tony shrugged again. They had hurt, but he’d taken another dose of pain medication an hour ago, knowing a break through with Friday was just around the corner. And he’d been   
right, so it was a good call.

“Will the nails grow back?”

A third shrug, exhaustion was really catching up with him now. “Not sure, doesn’t really matter,” he said, uncaring. 

“I was going to see if you wanted to get outside again, for some more air, it’s a lovely day out there. But you don’t really look up to it,” he paused. “No offence.”

“I’m just tired, but – sure.” If Rhodey wanted to go out, he would go out. 

“No man, it’s fine, we can do it some other time. You really don’t look too good.”

Tony nodded carefully. “You sure know how to compliment a guy.”

“Truth hurts!” he joked. “But look, you look exhausted. If you can’t sleep, that’s what the morphine is for. If you need it, then take it.”

Tony felt his cheeks turn red with guilt again as he nodded. “Will do.” 

*

Two days later.

“Will you stop doing that?”

Tony looked up at Natasha, curious. “Doing what? Breathing?”

They were seated on the park bench again, well Natasha was on the bench, Tony in the wheelchair at the side of it. She’d suggested talking the walker, but he had asked for the wheelchair instead. It wasn’t like him to miss an opportunity to push himself, so she was watching him carefully. He looked tired, frail almost. He’d had a haircut earlier that morning, leaving his hair much shorter on the back and sides, but it showed the grey at his temples, somehow making him look older than he had before.

“You keep poking at it with your tongue, it makes your mouth look all strange.”

“It feels strange, I’d just gotten used to the gaping hole.”

He’d been put under, yesterday afternoon, to have the implants inserted, to replace his missing teeth. He came too for maybe an hour at most, later that afternoon, slurring to himself drowsily about his “work.” Nobody asked him for further details in his incoherent state, and then he’d drifted off again and slept for ten hours straight, only waking as a   
nurse roused him to check his readings. He’d managed to charm her into sorting him a haircut out, and he felt better for it.

Now he was up, he couldn’t stop prodding at his new teeth with his tongue, despite the strange face it made him pull.

“Did you prefer the gaping hole?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tony looked at her darkly for a moment, then smiled slightly to cover it, but Natasha knew she had pushed him too far. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that was insensitive.”

“No it wasn’t,” he brushed her off. “But I am hungry,” he said, changing the subject, “how about you?”

He still needed her to push the chair for him, his fingers were too sore, he couldn’t put too much pressure on them, and they had been rewrapped the day before by an annoyed nurse. He’d been taken for another x-ray too, but the cast was to stay on for a few more weeks at least. 

“You want to give the cafeteria a try?”

She made the suggestion calmly, like it was no big deal, but Tony could see right through her.

“Why do you want to go there?”

“Change of scenery?”

“I’m not actually that hungry,” Tony said, looking around for a distraction. “I could do with getting back, anyway, I’ve got to check on the schematics for the… braces.”

“Right.”

“So, shall we?”

“You know you can’t hide from them forever,” she said, making no move to get up from the bench. Tony slammed his hand against the arm rest, then braced himself against the pain as he realised it was his injured hand, not his good one. It didn’t hurt too badly, though, he’d given himself a small top up of morphine, before the ride out with Natasha, just to tide him over until they got back. 

“I’m not hiding,” he said, voice cold. 

“So you’re not avoiding them?”

“I’m living in a hospital bed, I’ve only left my room twice and that was when you got me out, I’d hardly say I’m avoiding people, I can’t exactly go anywhere.”

“Then let’s go, see what’s on offer for lunch today.”

“Natasha, no! I don’t want to see anyone, alright?”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Tony repeated, almost hysterical now, Natasha wondered if she had pushed him too far, or too soon. “Would you want anyone to see you looking like this? I look like,” he pointed to his ear, still heavily padded, “like a mummy! I can barely walk on my own, I can’t even push this god damned chair on my own!”

“That’s not your fault, Tony. You were hurt.”

“Yeah,” Tony spat, face fight with fury. “I was hurt, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone rub it in my face.”

“You can’t mean that,” Natasha said, genuinely surprised. “Everyone is worried about you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, seeming to calm down some. “Whatever.”

“I’m not dropping this, Tony. Whatever happened before, nobody wanted this to happen to you, to any of us, we’re all just all sorry that we didn’t get to you sooner.”

Tony tensed up again, not wanting to think about that, about how he had been left – no. No. Instead he spat, “I don’t want anyone’s pity. I brought this on myself, remember?”

Natasha just shook her head. “Maybe you do need to speak to them, see for yourself-“

“Why would I want them to see them like this? You don’t show your enemy your weakness, Nat, and right now,” he held his arms out as he looked himself up and down. “I’m a pretty easy target.”

“What?” Natasha was stunned that he was still thinking in such terms.

“Last time I saw Steve, I tried to hurt him, tried to kill his friend, and he almost killed me in return. Not sure I’d stand much of a chance against him now, and it’s not like I have the suit…” he trailed off, suddenly missing his armour. 

“Steve wouldn’t hurt you, Tony.”

“Yeah, well he did. He hurt me, and then he left me. Left me taking the flack for his shit. So forgive me if I don’t want to see him or his band of merry followers until I’m doing better, okay?”

Natasha knew they could go on all day, arguing back and forth, but when he was like this, he was too stubborn to see any other point of view. 

“Fine, I’ll just take you back to your room.”

“Thank you.” His words were clipped, they travelled back to the medical centre in silence. Once back in his room, she reached out a hand to help him back into bed like before, but this time he slapped it away, not too gently. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I can do it myself,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I need to do it myself.”

Natasha couldn’t pretend she wasn’t hurt by the gesture. “Fine,” she said, folding her arms as she watched him struggle to pull himself up and out of the chair, tottering on his feet before finally getting onto the mattress, sweating from the effort.

“Don’t shut your friends out, Tony,” she warned as she watched him inject himself with what looked like more much needed morphine. 

“Thanks for stopping by,” he muttered sleepily without looking at her. He didn’t see her shaking her head sadly as she left the room.

*

Natasha joined Rhodey in the cafeteria later. “No Tony?” he asked, slightly disappointed.

“Nope,” she sat down at the table next to Rhodey, her hands on the plastic table before her. “He wasn’t up to it.”

“He okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. He seems… tense.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. I hoped it meant he was getting better, if he’s getting angry.”

“He didn’t want to risk seeing anyone else here. He said he couldn’t let his enemies see him in his weakened state. He just didn’t sound like himself. He needs to see, to understand…he needs to know he is safe here.”

“He still thinks he was only brought here for a reason,” Rhodey said sadly. “It’s going to take a lot of time for him to learn that that’s not the case.”

“Time’s not something we have a lot of.”

*

It was late evening when Tony woke from his doze, his body clock was all screwed up, he’d gotten into the habit of working through the night, and sleeping off and on throughout the day. He entered his log in code for Friday and couldn’t help but smile as he heard her Irish “Good evening Boss!” blast through the speakers. He’d given in, the evening before, and reinstated voice protocols, missing the familiar voice. 

“Reduce volume to 10%,” he whispered, hoping nobody had heard. The door to his room was fully closed. 

“Okay,” he said, voice sounding slightly hoarse as he lowered it. “Let’s carry on where left off. Everything on Ross since Siberia.”

“On it Boss.”

He’d checked in on SI, yesterday, and read the updates on the initial stock fall, it looked to have finally levelled out after a significant drop since the he was announced as a fugitive. 

He’d asked Friday to send for his jet, ready to get out of here, lawyer up, and take on Ross. But that wasn’t an option, all of his assets had been frozen. He’d considered getting a suit, leaving that way, but all of the Iron Man armour had been locked down, apparently. He’d just have to do this another way.

He quickly scanned through multiple statements issued by Ross and the Accords Council, denouncing him alongside the other former Avengers. Rhodey wasn’t mentioned at all. He opened a video clip, dated just four days ago. Ross stood before a podium, hands braced on either side of it as he talked, wearing a cream linen suit. Tony was sure that he’d seen the man wear a similar jacket in the Raft, only then it had been sweat and blood stained. He swallowed hard as he listened to the man talk about “fresh developments” in the hunt for the disbanded Avengers. Tony wondered how much truth was behind the words – did Ross know where they were hiding? It wasn’t difficult to guess, Tony himself had figured it out in minutes. Something was wrong if they hadn’t figured it out yet, that was for sure. 

He watched more clips and read more articles until his eyes began to sting and the words started to blur together. “Friday, can you get me a printed copy of the Accords as they currently stand?”

“Of course,” she scoffed.

“New task tomorrow,” he said, taking a shuddering breath. “T’Challa has the surveillance footage taken from the Raft. We need to get a copy of everything they have, somehow, without them knowing, and… decrypt it. As before, top secret.”

“No problem.”

“We’ll see.” He shut the tablet down and tucked it under his pillow again, thinking hard about his next steps. He could see sun starting to rise from the view from his window. He yawned, tried to sleep, but couldn’t. His side was aching, he’d pulled at the stitches on his hip again, when getting back into bed after refusing Natasha’s help. He needed to sleep, he knew he needed the rest, but he kept seeing Ross, in his jacket, denouncing the Avengers on his screen. He started to drift and then jolted up in the bed, sure he could smell the smoke from the man’s cigar. He looked around the room, but he was alone. He reached over, and inserted another syringe into the port in the crook of his arm. Just one shot, he told himself, to help him sleep. Then tomorrow they could really get to work.

*

Tony woke slowly, still feeling fogged down although he had slept for four hours. He made his way down from the bed and used the stroller to get to the bathroom, it took too long, he was still far too unsteady on his feet. He sighed as he came back out of the bathroom and saw a nurse waiting for him. He needed to get to work on the tablet, he really didn’t   
need more interruptions.

“Morning,” she smiled, and Tony nodded, less than polite.

“I just came to check your readings,” she motioned to the heart rate monitor besides his bed, then began to check the readings as she made notes on the clipboard. 

“I already checked it,” Tony said, voice dull. “They’re fine.”

She nodded her head in agreement as she finished up. 

“Look,” he said, brain running in overdrive. “I don’t think I really need to stay here, anymore. I’m fine. I can come back when the dressings need changing, that’s all that’s left for you to do.”

“You’d need to discuss that with the Dr, I’m afraid. I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Thanks,” Tony said absently, waiting until she had gone before picking up his tablet and moving back to the chair. He eased himself into it and then took a long deep breath before   
turning it on. 

“Morning Boss,” Friday greeted him, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Hey Friday,” he greeted. “I hope you’re feeling rested, because we’ve got a lot to do today.”

“Yes Boss. I already made a head start.”

Pages and pages of code began scrolling on the screen in green font. Tony squinted to read the small text and then grinned.

“Is this what I think it is? T’Challa’s network drive? You’re in?”

“I’ve been in and out Boss, all footage is stored in the folder you created. I managed to clone everything, and I removed what you didn’t request.”

“Can I access it now?”

“Negative, I’m still working on the decryption. Getting the files was easier than opening them. My projections show that I may require your assistance.”

Tony nodded. “The files are secure?”

“Very. I’ve ran them through two sweeps, and nothing.”

Tony gritted his teeth. “We need to access these files, Fri.”

“And we will, but it won’t be a walk in the park.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

*

An hour in and Tony broke off to unwrap his fingers again, it was slowing him down too much. He got up, reached over to his bed and grabbed another syringe, knowing his fingers would hurt, it was better to take the medication now to head the pain off. 

He settled back in his chair and took a few long breaths with his eyes shut as he felt the warmth spread through him. He laid the tablet back across his thighs and started at it again with both hands, occasionally muttering to himself out loud, sometimes stopping to confer with Friday about their progress. They were making progress, it just felt like it was taking far too long.

Hours later, Tony held his breath as he watched the numbers run across the screen. This should be it, if not, he really didn’t know what he would do. He sat tensely, watching the code, not blinking. Finally he shuddered as the code completed, they were in.

“Files are decrypted, Sir.”

Tony nodded. “Good.” He rubbed at his tired eyes as he thought about what to do next. “Friday, I want you to run through it all and flag any clips of me. Categorise each file, but flag any that show me being questioned.” He paused as he rubbed at his eyes again. “I need to know what I told him,” he finished quietly.

“On it.”

“I’m going to shut this down, recharge it,” he mumbled, “I’ll be back in an hour or two. Keep on it.”

“Alright.”

He plugged the tablet in to charge and leant against the bed frame. He was tired but he didn’t want to sleep. He scratched at the back of his head, it felt strange, his hair being shorter than it had been for a while. He closed his eyes as he thought about the video clips – just what had he told Ross? He remembered parts, remembered throwing realistic lies out to buy himself more time. But what else had he given up? There were spans of time where his memories were muddled, he remembered pain and questions but he wasn’t sure of the responses he’d given. The thought terrified him.

He clenched his fists against the rails, ignoring the sting in his fingers as he tried to remember – anything? They’d asked him about Bruce and Clint’s family and… the kid. The kid! They had asked about the boy. He didn’t say anything, he knew it, he couldn’t have, wouldn’t have; would he? All he could remember was Ross, holding his photo in front of his face, and then – 

The door opened, Fury walked in and then stopped as he saw Tony startle against the bed frame he was clinging to.

“You okay?” he asked surprised, not moving any further into the room, he could see something was off.

Tony mumbled some garbled response, then turned to run towards the bathroom unaided. He made it half way there before his legs stuttered and he lurched against the wall before crashing to the floor on his knees. Fury was at his side in seconds, he put a hand on his arm to help steady him and Tony panicked, lashing out with his bad hand, punching Fury in the face. Fury fell back, then grunted in pain as Tony lashed out again, kicking at Fury’s chest twice more before crawling away on the floor, into the corner of the room, before turning to his side and throwing up over the wall and down himself.

He stopped retching and ran a shaking hand across his mouth before pushing his back flat against the wall as he looked around the room, dazed. He held his throbbing hand against his chest as he watched Fury slowly climb to his knees, grimacing, before he moved over and crouched besides Tony, leaving a foot of space between them.

“You back with me?” Fury asked, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

Tony nodded as he looked down at himself and the vomit sprayed across his chest and the wall. “Uh,” he tried to think of something to say. “Sorry. I just –“

“Doesn’t matter,” Fury said, gently holding him on his shoulder. “No need to apologise.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Tony’s harsh breathing slowly started to ease back into a more normal rhythm. A nurse popped her head around the door and Fury quickly shooed her away before getting up and closing the door behind her.

He groaned as the movement pulled at his ribs where Tony had kicked him. “Jesus, Tony,” he said, “this is why I used to visit you in the night.” The humour was evident in his voice, and Tony couldn’t help but smile slightly as he continued to stare at the mess on the wall.

Fury moved over and held a hand out to him. “Think you might need a shower,” he said, gently. “Need a hand?”

Tony finally looked up at the hand, then met Fury’s eyes as he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He reached up and Fury braced his hand between both of his as he helped steady him as he stood up. The two men limped together into the bathroom and then Fury took a step back. “I’m going to clear this up,” he said, motioning towards the main room. “Leave the door open a crack so you can shout if you need any help.”

Tony nodded his agreement, then winced as he started to shrug off his gown. 

“Do you need anything, a pain killer?”

Tony hesitated but then nodded. He’d had a dose not long ago, but then he’d also wrecked his hand when he punched Fury, it still throbbed. Fury brought him a needle which he injected gratefully, then started to slowly undress again. He looked down at his cast, but given the splotches of vomit that had caught it, he decided to just get it wet, it didn’t matter. He left the rest of his dressings on too, not having the patience or energy to remove them. He sat in the seat and turned the water on, closing his eyes as the water hit, breath still hitching in his chest every few minutes as he tried to calm himself down.

He needed to watch those clips, he realised, to see what damage he had caused, who and what he had compromised. The thought of watching the clips twisted his stomach, and the thought of what information he may have given up terrified him. He leant forwards in the seat and suddenly retched again, coughing up bile this time, he watched as the water swirled it away down the drain. After a few more minutes he reached up and turned the water off, and just leant back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to push the images and the fear from his mind. 

He ran a hand over his face and only then realised that he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and commenting, and sticking with this!
> 
> As always, PLEASE keep commenting, I love getting your comments, they really make my day! x


	23. Chapter 23

Tony rubbed at his face roughly and took a deep breath before he finally climbed out of the shower on unsteady legs. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around his waist, then pulled a second one from the towel rack and wrapped it over his shoulders. He leant against the counter as he fought back another lingering sob but refused to look in the mirror. 

He made it to the door and leant against it wearily for a moment. Fury got up from the chair and ambled over, holding his arm out. “Need a hand?”

“If you could pass me the walker,” he said, pointing to the far wall.

Fury was not deterred, he held his arm out and stared at the man. “I think the arm will do just fine.”

Tony nodded, slightly irritated, and grabbed the offered arm and they made their way back to the bed. Fury helped Tony up onto the mattress and he pulled his sheet over the wet towels he was still wrapped in, he didn’t care to get changed before Fury, and anyway, he was too tired, the double shot of morphine was exhausting him as fast as it had initially numbed him.

“Thanks for clearing the mess up,” Tony said, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt his face flush with embarrassment. 

“Are you okay?”

Tony closed his eyes, preferring the darkness to the sight of Fury’s concern. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, turning his face away slightly. 

“Your wrappings are all wet,” the man noticed. “I’ll send a nurse in.”

“Don’t bother,” Tony said, turning back to face him again. “I’ll sort it out tomorrow. If you see T’Challa, tell him I want a word, will you?”

Fury nodded carefully. “About?”

“I need to get out of here, I need a normal room, and I need some privacy. I’m okay now, I don’t need to be here.”

Fury nodded although he wasn’t sure he agreed. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

Tony nodded. Then smirked as he looked down at himself. “Been better. But I’ve been worse, much worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony tugged at the sheet again, settling back against the pillow. “I’m fine Nick, just really tired.”

“Yeah.” Fury bit his lip, a creeping sensation of guilt crawling up his spine. “Sure.”

Tony nodded. 

“If you do need to…speak to anyone. You know where I am?”

Tony smirked again. “Sure, whatever, night Fury.”

Fury headed to the door and then stopped, turning back on the door. “Look, Tony-“

“I said night, Fury,” Tony said, words clipped, ending any further conversation. “Do me a favour, close the door behind you? And don’t forget to speak to T’Challa.”

Fury nodded his head, giving up on his poor attempt to get the man to talk. “Sure thing, Tony.”

The door closed and Tony relaxed, still embarrassed over the whole incident, but also feeling slightly too tired to care. He pulled the tablet out from beneath the pillow and held it tightly, considering just turning it on now and watching the clips and getting it over with. But he couldn’t. He just… couldn’t. He closed his eyes and fell to sleep, exhaustion finally overtaking him, the tablet still crushed against his chest tightly.

*

Natasha stopped short when she entered Clint’s room, shock and disappointment covering her face. “You’re drinking? T’Challa’s actually providing you with alcohol?” she asked with disbelief.

Clint smiled lazily from where he was sprawled out on the bed, bottle in his hand. “He told his men to get me whatever I want, last night I ordered pizza and booze, and they complied. It’s not so bad here after all.”

“It’s 11am and you’re already drunk.”

“I’ve got nothing else to do in here.”

“How about you sort your head out!” She took her hands off of her hips and threw them into the air. “I can’t believe you. After everything you’ve done, and instead of trying to make things right, you just sit here feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Natshaha,” he stumbled over her name, which only increased her anger. “I need to speak to Tony, they won’t let me see him, and he’s not going to come see me, is he? I need to make things right. I feel…” he stopped to lick up some of the liquid that slopped from his bottle onto his wrist. “I need to fix this.”

“Fix this? You abandoned your family. You joined an illegal cause without even seeing what you had gotten yourself into. Then you took off and abandoned your team mates and left Tony for dead. And you think wallowing in self-pity and alcohol is going to make this right?”

She reached over and snatched the bottle from his hand, he tried to stop her but she overpowered him, her nails scratching his skin as she took it. She headed to the bathroom and Clint jumped up to follow her, stumbling over his feet. 

“Nat no!” He yelled, leaning against the door frame as she threatened to pour the drink down the sink.

“Sort yourself out!” she dropped the bottle onto the counter, too mad to even throw it away and deprive him of it. 

“How can I sort myself out locked in here?”

Natasha moved over to the sideboard in his bedroom and riffled through it, slamming a pen and pad of paper onto his bedsheets. “Why don’t you start by writing Tony an apology?”  
Clint started to laugh, but then saw he was serious. “Uh, you really think that will help?”

“Yes, do something, anything! Just stop making this situation worse!”

“You’re really mad still, aren’t you,” he said drowsily, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yes,” she hissed, then kissed him on his cheek. “I’m furious, I could just-“ she clenched her hands into fists, exasperated. “But I still love you. But you need to sort yourself out,   
fast,” she warned.

Clint sighed as she left the room, before ambling over to the notebook. ”Write a letter,” he huffed to himself. “Seriously? A letter?” He sat back on the bed tired, deciding his thoughts would be clearer after he slept some of the booze off.

*

Tony woke slowly, feeling stiff and tired, the memories of his “episode” filtering in as he stared at the ceiling for a while. He could smell a musty smell, which confused him, because he had showered, but then he realised it was from burn wounds. He had gotten the dressings wet. He looked down at his fingers and saw the wrapping had unwound slightly. He sat up gently and found his ear dressing pressed against his pillow, it had come free of his skin. Getting it wet was probably not the best idea, but he just didn’t care. He carefully climbed out of bed and tightened the towel around his waist, the other one had dropped to the floor as he had slept. He stretched before checking on the tablet, it was warm, he’d clearly slept on it, but it was undamaged. He thought about turning it on and checking in on Friday, but swallowed hard as he pushed it beneath his pillow again, deciding to give it more time. He knew what he needed to do when he turned it on, so he could put it off for an hour or two. 

He wanted to brush his teeth suddenly, as he remembered that he hadn’t done so last night, and there had been a lot of vomit… that explained the vile taste in his mouth. He eyed the stroller but then cast it aside, he needed to stop with the crutch and get back on his feet. He leant against the wall as he slowly made his way to the bathroom, and he couldn’t help himself from smiling when he finally leant against the counter. Yes he was wheezing, and there was a sharp pain jutting up and down his ribcage. But he had done it.

He brushed his teeth and threw some water against his face, again avoiding his reflection in the mirror, before gently pulling away the remaining the dressing loosely from his hip, it was already hanging off. He dropped it in the sink next to the bandages he had finished unwinding form his fingers, and slowly made his way back into the room intending to dress. He sat down on the chair as a dizzy spell overcame him, and then looked up annoyed as a fresh faced nurse he didn’t recognise came in. 

“I hear you’re ready for a fresh dressing change?”

Tony sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine, let’s just… let them get some air.”

“It’s a little too soon for that, I think.” She ambled into the room, the sound of her pulling on her rubber gloves snapping Tony’s patience. 

“I said no!” he snapped. “Just leave it okay?”

“You really need-“

“No I don’t!” He stood up, grabbing onto the towel around his waist as he did so. “Not now, alright!”

The woman stared at him for a moment before forcing a smile on her face as she nodded her agreement before reluctantly leaving the room.

“Is that really how you should be treating the nurses? You’re supposed to look after the people who help you.”

Tony startled slightly, sitting back down as he tried to hide the surprise from his face, “So,” he said, huffing slightly, “you’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Natasha tilted her head to the side as she stared at him.

“Yes?” he asked, feeling uncomfortable. 

“I heard you want to get out of here?”

Tony watched her, wondering if this was another ploy to get him around the others. “So?”

“So, there’s a room ready for you. Fury spoke to T’Challa this morning.”

“And he got me a room, already?” Tony couldn’t help but sound suspicious.

“He already had one prepped. If you think you’re ready, he’s happy for you to move. The nurses will come to you, to check on you there, with your heart readings, your medication,   
your dressings.” The emphasis was placed on the last word. “By the way, your cast smells of damp. You might need to ask the lady you just upset about getting a fresh one put on.”

Tony shook his head. “Look, do me a favour, pass me some clothes from the cupboard, will you?”

Natasha passed the cupboard without stopping, instead dropping a black duffel bag at his feet, he hadn’t even noticed her holding it. 

“What’s that?”

“Clothes. Thought you’d prefer real clothing to the gaping gowns you’ve been modelling recently?”

Tony couldn’t help but smirk a little, Natasha’s banter finally breaking through. 

He reached down for the bag, holding his side as it ached. “Thanks,” he said, pulling out a pair of black sweat pants, and a grey tee shirt. He started to wrinkle his nose up at the drab colours, then stopped himself, it would feel good to cover himself properly again. 

“You need a hand?”

Tony hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” she said, eyes twinkling. “I won’t look.”

Tony nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Give me a hand?”

She helped him pull on the bottoms, the towel preserving his modesty, then she left him to deal with the tee himself, looking away from his body, it was still startlingly thin, his ribs looking like they were straining against his skin, and the pink burn marks still shone out against his pale chest brightly. She walked to the window, ignoring the quiet sounds of pain he was trying to hide as he finally got his arms through the sleeve holes; doing something so simple shouldn’t cause such trouble. 

He was sweating lightly when he finished, and ran a hand across his face, trying to dab it away. 

“Do you need something?” Natasha asked, glancing towards the medical station. 

Tony hesitated, then shook his head in the negative. 

“Have you had anything yet today?”

“No,” Tony answered honestly, “but I had a lot last night, it’s probably still in my system.”

“Okay,” she said, now moving around the room and packing his few belongings into a second bag. Where had that come from? “Anything else you need to take?”

“I’ve got some toiletries in the bathroom, and, uh, my tablet’s just on the bed, under the pillow.”

Natasha scooped up the item and dropped it in the bag, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Still working on those braces?”

Tony could sense the doubt in her voice, but he smiled and nodded anyway. “They’re taking me longer than expected.” He scratched at his neck again. “Guess I’m not used to   
wasting so much time sleeping.”

Natasha seemed to instantly warm. “It’s a natural response as you heal, you should sleep as much as you can.”

“Yeah, suddenly that’s not such a problem for me as it used to be.”

“You ready to go?” She pulled out the wheelchair and Tony frowned. “It’s a fifteen minute walk from the medical centre. I don’t think you’re there yet, Bambi.”

Tony shook his head in amusement as he sat in the chair, the bag containing his tablet on his knees, the second one hanging from the back of the handles. Natasha started to push the chair and then Tony suddenly held his hands out.

“Wait!”

Natasha stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s my room?”

“It’s in the compound, you’ve got a room just down the hall from Rhodey, with a shared kitchen and living area. T’Challa thought it would be better for you both to be together, and   
it will make it easier for the nurses treating you both too.”

Tony nodded. “And where are you?”

“I’m on the floor above with Fury.”

Tony swallowed hard as he finally worked up to the only question he was concerned about. “And the others?”

“They’re in another wing of the compound, a good twenty minute walk away from where you’ll be stationed.”

“They have access to our area?”

“Yes,” she said carefully, “but not to our rooms, and we can completely restrict it if you don’t want them nearby.”

Tony nodded. “Good. I don’t want to see them, not yet.”

He was expecting an argument but Natasha just nodded. “Fine.” 

“Whose still here? Rogers and Clint?”

“Everyone. Wanda and Scott share an area, much to the disdain of Wanda,” she added, trying to lighten the mood at the mention of the Scarlett Witch. “And Steve and Sam share an   
area. None of them come out much, to be honest, I think everyone’s just been licking their wounds.”

“Clint left?”

Natasha frowned. “Not exactly, he’s being held in a room, in a different area.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, held?”

“He’s being detained. For his actions, in the Raft?”

Tony was shocked. “What? Why? What the hell – he didn’t do anything wrong!”

Natasha nodded, not wanting to aggravate him further. “He left us all, Tony, and he’s being detained until T’Challa decides what to do with him. He’s, angry, really, really angry.”

“He left to save his family, he was doing-“ he shook his head, tripping over his words. “He did the right thing! You’re just going to lock him up! You can’t.”

“He’s hardly in a cell,” she snapped. “He’s just taking some time out. T’Challa won’t lock him up for good, he just wanted him out of the way for now, more for your sake than   
anyone else’s.”

“What? Why would I want to see him locked up?”

“He was concerned about your feelings, and the rest of the teams too, he let us all down. T’Challah himself is still really angry, what Clint did goes against everything the Black Panther believes in.”

Tony finally nodded, feeling drained suddenly. “Fine, we’ll discuss it later, but this needs to be sorted,” he all but whispered. He looked over at the medical station, Natasha hadn’t packed his medication.

“There’s a nurse coming over later to set your medication up in your new room.”

Tony nodded before taking a deep breath. “Great,” he said, pleased to be leaving, but still feeling like he had to fake the enthusiasm. “Then let’s go.”

*

Tony watched alert as Natasha wheeled him from the medical centre towards the main compound. Each time a figure appeared in the hallways he would tense or jolt in his chair, until he could confirm to himself that it wasn’t any member of his former team. He sat tensely in the chair, on the edge of his seat, his bad hand pressed against his chest as they moved. 

Once they made it to the rooms Natasha unlocked the door before gently tossing the key to Tony, he missed the catch and they dropped into his lap. 

“Only Rhodey and you have a set of keys now,” she said, almost feeling reluctant to lose her set. She pushed him through the room, showing him the large kitchen area and then the   
living area. The two bedrooms were separated by another long hall area, giving them their privacy from each other too.

Natasha wheeled him down to his room, then dropped the two bags on the double bed and opened the curtains, letting the bright sunlight filter in.

“Nice,” he said, looking around the room, making no move to get out of the chair. 

“Yeah, Clint’s is the same, before you start feeling sorry for him.”

He just sighed, giving no other reaction to her words.

“The bathroom’s been fully stocked, and more clothes and underwear are stored in the wardrobe and the drawers.”

Tony nodded, thinking he should say something. “Thanks.” He looked around the room again blandly. “Can the nurses put my meds on the bedside table?”

“Sure, I can have that set up. They should be over soon. Do you want me to bring your walker over?”

Tony shook his head. “No thanks, it’s just slowing me down. Is Rhodey here?”

“He wanted to give you some space, so you can get settled. He’s having physio, he’s been doing a lot of work since we got here.”

Tony perked up. “He’s doing okay?”

Natasha nodded. “He seems to be coping very well.”

Tony huffed out a little breath, feeling so guilty, Rhodey was paralysed and yet he was still just getting on with it. He’d given him the tablet a week ago and hadn’t once asked how Tony was getting on designing his walking aid. 

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

Tony shook his head, then nodded, knowing he something, a drink at least. “I’ll get it,” he said, climbing up from the chair. Natasha held out a hand and he took it reluctantly, but released his grip as soon as he was standing. He hobbled down the hallway slowly, enjoying the feeling of the cool walls beneath his hands as he held onto it to keep himself steady as he moved. Natasha lingered behind him, ready should he stumble, but he didn’t. He made it to the living area and sat down against the couch, staring out of the window again, it was large and bright, covering almost a full wall, and had a beautiful view of a long, deep green forest.

Natasha moved over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge. “You want some juice?” she asked, knowing he needed a breather. 

“Sure, thanks.”

She placed the cool glass in his hand and sat down beside him, a foot or so of space between them, she didn’t want to crowd him.

“It’s a beautiful view,” she said, she still hadn’t gotten used to it herself.

“It is,” Tony said quietly, staring out, almost transfixed. “We’ve got to make sure Ross doesn’t come here,” he said, almost thinking out loud.

Natasha kept her stare on the view. “You think that’s a possibility?”

Tony shrugged. “He’s desperate, he’s obsessed; maybe he would.”

“Could he know where we are?”

Tony snapped his head to the side to glare at her, sure she was accusing him. “You think I told him?” he hissed. “You think I would – I would give you all up?”

Natasha held her hands up in a calming gesture. “No, Tony no. That is not what I meant.”

“Really?” he stared at her coldly. 

“I just meant – it’s not hard to work out, is it? The Avengers disappear, right around the same time T’Challa goes back into hiding here. It would be my first guess.”

“Yeah, well, it was my guess too.” He looked at her again, willing her to believe him. “But I didn’t tell Ross.”

“I believe you Tony,” she shrugged. “But if you had told him, I still wouldn’t blame you.”

Tony turned away again, suddenly agitated. He knew he hadn’t mentioned Wakanda, he didn’t know how he could be so sure, he just was, he felt it, he just knew he wouldn’t have given it up. But that had been at the start of the questioning, before things got… bad. Anything else – well, he just couldn’t be sure. He rubbed a hand against the bridge of his nose as he realised he needed to watch those clips, he had to know. He needed to know. If he had told… what he had told…There was no choice but to watch the footage. 

He startled slightly when a warm hand suddenly rubbed at his shoulder, then brushed at his eyes as he felt them start to water. Not now, he thought, desperately fighting the wetness back.

“Tony, you’re shaking.”

“I’m, uh,” he tried to sit up then fell back against the sofa cushion. “I need to, um. I’m just cold.”

Natasha closed the gap between them, sitting close against his thigh. “Tony, what’s going on?”

Tony stared at her, willing his eyes to dry, they were still wet, but he was sure no tears had fallen, he wasn’t actively crying. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “It’s fine. Like I said, I’m just…   
cold.”

“You know I’m one of the world’s best at reading people, knowing when they’re lying? And it’s boiling in here, you’re sweating. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, trying to wave her away but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

Tony sniffed and shook his head, trying to stand up again and succeeding this time. He moved over to the window and pressed his head against the glass gently.

Natasha stayed put. “I’m sorry, about before. At the airport. I did betray your trust, and I wish I hadn’t. I was just trying to stop everything before it escalated any further.”

“I know,” Tony said quietly. “I was mad, before, when we argued. You know I didn’t want Ross to go after you.”

Natasha smiled softly as she nodded her head. “I know.” She got up and moved over to him, rested a hand on his lower back, and was pleased when he didn’t instantly pull away.

“Do you trust me, Tony?”

Tony looked at her for a moment before looking down at the blackened, broken skin on his fingers on his left hand. “Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “I guess so.”

“So do you want to let me know what’s going on? You’ve not been yourself, since, well, I’d guess since Rhodey got you that tablet. And I know you’ve not been working on his   
braces, or he’d be wearing them already. What’s going on, Tony, talk to me?”

Tony stared at her for a long minute before turning away again to rest his head back against the cold glass. 

“I, uh, I got Friday back up,” he confessed, “managed to undo whatever Ross’ men did to take her offline.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, she knew this would be a positive thing, it wouldn’t be responsible for the agitated state he had been living in for the past few days. 

“We,” he paused, “well, Friday, really. Managed to break into T’Challa’s network, and clone everything they took from the Raft. The footage. Nobody knows.”

“Oh,” Natasha said, suddenly realising. “You know about that?”

Tony nodded. “Fury told me.”

Natasha curled the hand not resting on his back into a fist as she bit her lip in anger. 

“He asked you to do this?”

“Yea, no, well, yes, he did. But it’s okay. I… I needed to do it.”

“Does Rhodey know?”

Tony shook his head. “Fury doesn’t even know I’ve started on it, I didn’t want anyone to know. Now Friday is back, I just… wanted to wait, I just want to be in control of whatever is asked of Friday, of… us.”

“Have you decrypted the files?”

Tony said nothing but nodded gently.

“Have you watched them yet?”

Tony shook his head. 

Natasha sighed. “But you’re going to.”

Tony nodded again. “I have to,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I need to know, if I gave anything away. What I said. What I told them.”

“Do you remember telling them anything?”

“No, it’s just all, mixed up, in my head. I know they were questioning me, but I can’t remember what about, or what I said. I know… I hope,” he corrected. “I just hope I didn’t   
give anything up, but I can’t be sure, I can’t – I need – I just need to know, what I’ve done-“ he broke off, taking long fast breaths as he struggled to stay in control over himself.

“I can, I can watch them, if you want. Save you putting yourself through that?”

Tony considered it for a moment and then straightened up slightly. “No,” he said, with conviction. “I have to do it.”

“Okay,” she responded, keeping her voice as soothing as possible. “Then how about we watch them together?”

Tony looked at her curiously. “Why? Do you think I talked?”

“No, Tony, but I don’t really care if you did or didn’t talk, I just really, really don’t think watching that kind of stuff is going to help you. Especially not alone. If you do insist on watching this then, please, don’t do it by yourself, it’s not healthy.”

Tony swallowed hard as he thought the offer through, hesitating over how to respond. Eventually he nodded, sniffing again as he refused to let the wetness leave his eyes. “Okay,” he said quietly. 

Natasha held her hand out, and he grasped it in his good hand, it was still shaking. 

“Come on,” she said, slowly leading him back towards his room, pleased he was leaning on her this time and not the wall. “Let’s do this, together.”

Tony nodded, saying nothing, but followed her closely, suddenly determined to get this over with.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting this slightly longer than usual chapter a day early this week as a thank you for all of the lovely comments I have received - as always, thank you so much for reading, and even more for taking the time to comment, I really appreciate it!
> 
> I'm still thinking it's going to take another 3-5 chapters to finish this, seen as I seem to have veered slightly off of my planned course this chapter!
> 
> But as always, thanks for sticking with this, and please, PLEASE, P-L-E-A-S-E (!) keep your comments coming!
> 
> Thank you! xx


	24. Chapter 24

Tony perched on the end of the bed, tablet held in his hands tightly. Natasha sat down next to him, they were almost touching, but not quite. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Natasha offered again. “I can watch it, you don’t have to do it.”

Tony ignored her, instead switching the device on. He twitched slightly as he waited for it to load, then seemed to relax as Friday’s voice spoke through the speakers with a slight echo.

“Hey Boss,” she greeted. 

“Friday,” Tony replied, “Nat’s here with me too,” he added, awkwardly.

“Miss Romanoff.”

“Friday,” Natasha greeted, “good to have you back.”

“So,” Tony said, forcing some enthusiasm into his voice. “Give me a brief overview – what information was Ross after?”

“Target information can be categorised into four key areas. The location of the Avengers, the identity and location of Mr Barton’s family, the location of Dr Banner, and the identity of Master Spiderman.”

Tony nodded his head as he bit his lip. “The kid, did I – did I give him up?” He held his breath as he waited to hear if he had condemned the boy. Please, please, no-

“Negative Boss.”

Tony almost dropped the tablet as relief flooded through him. He looked at Natasha and she smiled slightly, with a slight curl of her upper lip.

“Okay,” he said, then used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe at the sweat gathering on his neck. “Okay. Good. That’s… good. Did I tell him… anything?”

The five second delay in response seemed endless. “Only out of date information, Sir.”

This time Tony did drop the tablet, it clattered against the bed frame making them both jump.

“Shit,” Tony whispered, but the word was uttered lightly. “Thank… thank God.”

Natasha scooped the tablet up from the floor then gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder, almost celebratory. 

“You still feel the need to watch this? Friday can give us a rundown of Ross’ questions.”

“I can provide that information, Sir.”

Tony shook his head as he shifted back on the bed slightly, getting more comfortable. “No, thanks, but I want to see it. For myself. Just to be sure. I don’t remember what happened, not all of it, not clearly at least. I need to know. And… no offence, Friday, but – I just, need to see it with my own eyes. To be sure.”

“Non-taken. Where do you want to start?”

Tony chewed on his lip for a minute. “Start with any footage where they questioned me about Clint.”

“Very well. Video files will play in chronological order. They are all date and time stamped, for your convenience.”

Tony held the tablet in his good hand, the other limply lying on the bed, the trembling had subsided. Natasha rested her hand against his free one gently, making the slightest of contact. “Play the footage,” she ordered, and they both held their breath as the first clip began to play.

*

It looked like Tony had already been held almost a week, in the first clip, judging by his messy facial hair. The side of his head was covered with thick padding that had leaked through with dried blood. From the way he kept twitching, he knew that the attacks with the Taser had already began. 

Tony ran a hand against the scar above his ear gently as he watched himself on screen, handcuffed to the chair, the white bandage standing out against the dim light of the room.

“What happened to your head?” Natasha asked.

Tony’s fingers ghosted over the scar again before he left it alone. “Got hit with a baton,” he said, remembering that, it had been early days when Ross had attacked him with the weapon. 

“They treated you?”

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, straining to remember. “That was early on. I think they were worried, he wasn’t supposed to hit me on the head.”

Natasha ended her questions as Ross started to speak on the screen, stood over Tony, demanding the names of Clint’s family, asking him how many children he had. They watched in silence as Tony denied their knowledge, then admitted it, but refused to share it. Natasha winced as the Tony on screen was tasered, again and again and again, jerking violently against the chains holding him ain the chair, his choked yelps of pain seeming to echo around the room. 

The next clip focused on a sneering Ross, explaining why he was targeting Clint’s family – because the Avengers would come for them. They had left Tony, the man seemed to take great pleasure in reminding his prisoner, because he was worthless. Clint’s family, they had more value. Natasha watched from the corner of her eye as Tony nodded to himself in agreement as Ross repeated those words. She sighed, but said nothing, knowing this wasn’t the moment to broach this ground with him again. 

More clips played, Tony sat rigidly as he watched himself be beaten, tasered, mocked, tortured. The camera angle was always the same, but sometimes Tony was seated in the chair, sometimes, hanging from his arms, sometimes conscious and aware, defiant; other times unconscious, insensible, body hanging unmoving from his arms.

At one point he appeared almost insensible, delirious, mumbling to himself in some other language under his breath. The footage showed Ross demanding he repeat himself in English, before he lost consciousness again. 

“What language was that?” Natasha asked, though she knew the answer. It was a small break from the horrors being displayed on screen, a distraction she was sure he needed.

“Italian,” he said, never taking his eyes from the screen. “I don’t know much,” he admitted.

“What did you say?”

Tony got Friday to repeat the phrase and he listened carefully, before smiling slightly. “I said ‘Just an ass kicking.’” He offered no further explanation, but Natasha didn’t need one. They had already watched him tell himself this twice before in the footage, clearly it had been a mantra he had clung to as he had struggled to hold on.

The mood of the next scene was instantly different, Natasha could sense it, as she watched Ross tower over his captive more confidently, looking almost smug. They watched as Ross announced the names of Clint’s wife and three children, the names Tony had worked so hard to prevent him from obtaining. 

“How did he get that information?” Natasha asked, worried.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, pleased he hadn’t given it up, but still feeling a growing sense of desperation that Ross had found it elsewhere.

“We need to find out.”

Tony only nodded, now watching with sad eyes again as he saw his tormentor on screen approach, silver pliers in hand, light glinting from them on the screen. 

“Next,” Tony stammered suddenly, “move to the next one, Friday, move it – change it, now.”

Friday did so, and Tony paused it, dropping the tablet on the bedsheets and wiping his sleeve across his forehead for a minute. 

“Are you okay?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I just, I remember what happened there, I don’t need to see it.”

“Are you sure?”

Tony nodded, looking away. “Yes, and I, uh, I don’t really want you to see it either.”

He still felt terror at the memory of Ross and his men extracting his teeth, the pain, white hot agony exploding in his face; it was still too vivid, too real; he didn’t want to relive that again. And, he remembered, shame colouring his cheeks, that he had lost control over his bladder. He didn’t want Natasha to see that, to see him humiliate himself. 

Natasha continued to stare at him, he knew she deserved an explanation. 

“They, took my teeth,” he said, trying to gloss over it. “It was, bad, I was… struggling. I gave Ross some locations, of old abandoned safe houses. Ones that Friday monitors. I was trying to buy myself some time, tip Friday off, that something was wrong,” he trailed off, dropping the tablet again as he ran both hands through his hair roughly, grimacing at the pain in his fingers. He pushed himself up off the bed awkwardly and leant against the wall. “I thought somebody would come, that Friday would send someone.” He broke off with a harsh laugh but there was no humour in it. “I didn’t realise that Friday was down…. And really, who would come anyway? The team had already been once, and left without me. Rhodey was in hospital. Who else was there? It was stupid of me,” he shook his head again bitterly. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Natasha nodded gently. “Do you remember what happened after that?”

Tony pushed off from the wall and moved over to the window, his steps slow and unsteady. He didn’t speak until his back was to her, his front looking out over the view, the luscious green forestry seemed to calm him. 

“Ross knew the information was false. I tried to convince him that I thought Clint’s family were based there. But he knew it was a lie. He was… he was angry.”

“It looks like he was always angry,” Natasha spat, voice harsher than she intended.

“Yeah, but this was different. I think he was getting pressure, from somewhere. For results.”

“So what did he do?”

Tony shrugged. “He broke my arm, then he burnt my ear off.”

Natasha held a hand to her mouth, pressing a finger to her lips. Before she had the chance to ask him anything else, Tony continued, voice cold, empty of emotion. “I can’t remember which came first. I just remember he was holding me down, against the table. He had his lighter out, I heard the click, as it ignited, and it just, went on, and on, and on…” 

“Burns can be horrific,” Natasha said. Tony wasn’t sure if she was speaking from experience or not, but it didn’t matter.

He nodded. “It was… something else,” he said, turning around to face her. “The smell...” he looked over her shoulder at the wall as a slight shudder rolled through him. “The worst thing was, he… he enjoyed it.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony moved his gaze down to the floor as he leant back against the window to steady himself. “When he, did what he did to my ear… I remember he was holding me down against the table, and he was… pressed against me.” Tony said nothing for three full minutes, Natasha simply waited for him to continue. “He was aroused… I could feel it.”

Tony shook his head as he turned back around to face the window. “He enjoyed it.”

“Did they do anything to you… sexually?”

Tony shook his head quickly. “No, not at all. No. It was just… knowing he was enjoying, what he was doing to me. That’s when I got scared, I knew I was in real trouble then.”

Natasha didn’t know what to say, she tried to choose her words carefully. She watched as he swiped a hand across his face to destroy a tear that fallen before she could see it. She moved over to the window quietly and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, strengthening her grip. “We’re going to get him.”

Tony shook his head. 

“We are going to get him,” she repeated. “And I won’t let him die until we do to him what he did to you.”

“Jesus Nat!” Tony snapped, shocked. “You think that’s what I want? You think I can – I could do that – I would do that to anybody? Even him!” 

Natasha took a step back as he started to lose his control. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she said calmly. 

“I don’t want that!” he yelled, slamming his hand against the window. “Christ, that’s not what I want!” 

“I know, I know,” she hushed him. “I’m sorry, that was… insensitive.”

Tony lurched his way back towards the bed and sat down heavily as he turned the tablet back on.

“I think maybe we should take a break,” Natasha said carefully. 

Tony saw red, turned and launched the tablet at her as hard as could. It missed its target, sailing a good foot wide of Natasha, and hit the wall with a loud crack before dropping to the carpet with a soft thud.

The room was silent.

Tony stared at Natasha, chest heaving as he took in deep, stuttering breaths, face red with anger and frustration. Natasha stared back at him silently, not moving, even slightly. 

Eventually, Tony’s vision moved to the tablet on the floor, and despair seemed to flood through him. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing a hand against his forehead aggressively. ”FUCK!” he screamed as he punched the mattress.

Natasha padded over to the tablet, picked it up and ran her fingers over the crack in the screen. “It’s still working,” she said, handing it back to him. “Just a crack on the screen.”

Tony made no move to take it, so she placed it at his side. “As I said, I think you’ve seen enough for today. It’s distressing. I’m going to go see where the nurses are with the pain   
medication. I think you’re ready for a dose. Then we will talk about where we go from here.”

Tony thought about calling out to her as she left the room, but then she was gone, and he was alone. He picked the tablet up again and was about to bash the screen against his head when Friday’s voice rang out. 

“Miss Romanov is correct, Boss, you don’t need to watch this. I can sense from the readings in the pulse of the hand holding the screen that you are not comfortable when the footage plays.”

“I just need to know!” he said exasperated.

“I can provide a transcript of the questioning, Boss, and you can watch the rest later, when you’re stronger.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not acting fine,” the AI said. 

“Play the footage, play the rest,” he said frantically.

“Sir, I-“

“Play the damn footage NOW!” he demanded.

He hunched over the screen, watched his own form kneeling on the floor, awkwardly trying to hitch his broken arm up as high as possible, to take some of the weight from it, desperate to relive some of the pain. He looked only half conscious, barely recognisable, but he looked terrified, desperate… the next clip played and Tony closed his eyes as he heard himself finally scream out the location of the Barton’s. “They’re on a farm,” he had screamed, pleaded, demanded they listen. “They live on a farm!”

Tony jumped up from the bed and threw the tablet onto the floor. It landed screen up, and Tony could still see himself, tied into the chair, and suddenly his the heel of his foot was slamming into the screen, again and again and again. The glass broke and splintered, but he continued to stomp his foot against the object, until the metal and plastic warped and finally the sound stopped playing. When the tablet was reduced to a crushed and mangled heap, Tony staggered to the bathroom, leaving a footprint of blood he didn’t even notice. 

He filled the basin with cold water and held his head beneath the surface, holding his breath, using the feeling of his hands against the counter to ground him. He pulled his head out of the water and then looked at his reflection in the mirror, soaked through, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pushed his hair back from his face, then dunked his head into the water again. A few years ago he wouldn’t have been able to do that, to hold his head under water. A few years ago he was still freaking out in the shower and had every single bathtub removed from the tower. 

He dipped his head into the water a third time, then stared in the mirror again. He looked old and warn and broken. His ear was a mess. Ugly to look at. The skin was clearly damaged beyond repair. He brushed his hair aside to look at the thick pink scar running in his hairline, just above his ear, where Ross had cracked his skull. He looked in the mirror and saw himself, screaming in the chair, as the men were on him, holding him from behind, ripping his teeth out-

The sound of the mirror smashing snapped him from the flashback. He looked down at the basin, littered with large and small shards of glass, half of the mirror remained in place on the wall, but it was cracked, showing him a disjointed perception of himself. He padded out of the bathroom, not watching his step, and curled up on the bed. He looked at his hand, there was a deep gash on the knuckle between middle and ring finger on his good hand. It was bleeding heavily, so he pulled up the cover of the bedsheet and wrapped it around his hand, then closed his eyes as a long sigh worked its way through him.

Natasha came back into the room at that moment, a male nurse following her, and she stopped in her tracks as she saw the mess in the room, the broken tablet, one bloody footprint leading into the bathroom, two bloody prints leading the way back out and to the bed. 

“Tony!” she gasped, running over to the bed and rolling him onto his back. He opened his eyes tiredly and looked away.

The nurse hurried over and unwrapped his hand, sighing as took in the deep cut, and the smaller scrapes that littered his fist.

“This needs cleaning and stitching,” the man uttered as he dropped his pack onto the bed. He moved down to look at the patient’s feet and clucked his tongue against his teeth as he shook his head. 

“Can you give him some pain killers, first?” Natasha asked, and the nurse nodded, quickly loading up a syringe. Tony didn’t feel the pinch of the needle as it broke the skin in his arm. 

“Tony,” Natasha said, gently tapping him on the cheek as started to drift away. “What happened?”

“Sorry,” he slurred. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Threw the tablet at you,” he said, then winced as the nurse prodded at his left foot. “That was… uncalled for.”

“Yeah, it was.” Natasha smirked. “But you got lucky and missed.”

Tony huffed out a small laugh. “Broke the mirror too,” he admitted. 

“I’m sure it can be replaced.”

“Yeah,” he said, closing his eyes again. He opened them again, suddenly looking more alert. “Can you get me another tablet?”

“I can, Tony, but not if you’re going to let this destroy you.”

Tony tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but she held him still against the sheets. 

“I’m… I’m not going to watch any more. Don’t want to see it,” he admitted. “Friday can produce a transcript.”

Natasha smiled with relief. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Please Nat,” he said, suddenly worried. “Don’t tell the others I have the footage. Not yet.”

“I won’t tell anybody,” she said, “not until your ready.”

“Thank you” he said, seeming to sag against the sheets. “Thank you.”

Natasha looked confused. “For what?”

Tony closed his eyes, the pull of the drug dragging him under, he was ready to go with it. “For getting me out.” He turned his head to the side and Natasha thought he had fallen to   
sleep, but his eyes blinked open one last time. “For not leaving me in there.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for all of the hits, kudos and comments; I love hearing your comments so please, PLEASE keep leaving them!
> 
> I have now mapped out the rest of this story, and I think there will probably be another 5-7 chapters left. This is the longest story I have EVER written!
> 
> And for those of you looking forward for a conversation between Tony and Steve, or Tony and Clint... it is coming, I promise... !
> 
> Thank you all for reading! xx


	25. Chapter 25

Tony struggled to wake. He blinked his eyes and then raised a hand to rub at them, everything felt slow and heavy. Only after rubbing at his eyes did he notice the thick bandage covering his knuckles, wrapped tight and heavily padded beneath the wrapping.

“Shit,” he grumbled, voice hoarse and scratchy. He pushed himself up on the bed and was confused at the unfamiliar surroundings, before he remembered that he had a new room now, he was no longer living in a hospital bed.

The room tilted slightly as he sat upright, he held a hand against the mattress to steady himself, before dropping it back against the blanket covering him as he noticed Rhodey, parked in his chair in the doorway. 

“Uh, morning?”

Rhodey continued to glare at him silently.

“Are you coming in, or are you purposefully blocking the doorway?”

Rhodey huffed before wheeling himself over to the side of the bed. Tony had to look away for a minute as the room swayed again.

“You getting sea sick?” Rhodey asked sarcastically.

Tony lifted his newly bandaged hand again and held it close to his face before moving it away and then back again. “Have I been… given something?”

Rhodey smiled slightly. “Yeah, a truck load of morphine. The nurse was in here earlier, rewrapping your wounds, from when you took a shower the other day. And they had to see to the new damage too. From yesterday. You came too while they were fixing you up, put up a bit of a fight so they had to really knock you out.”

Tony’s forehead creased up with confusion. “Huh?”

“Your hand?”

“Yeah?” Tony asked, struggling to keep up.

“Your feet?”

Tony closed his eyes as he sighed. “Do you want to get to the point?”

“You remember throwing a John McClane? Putting your hand through the mirror then walking all over it?”

Tony pulled off the blanket covering him and looked down at his two feet, also wrapped in white bandages.

“Don’t remember,” Tony said heavily, trying not to yawn. He did remember… fragments. He decided not to search for the memory too hard, pushed it away instead.

Rhodey reached over and pulled the blanket back over him. “Yeah, well you messed your good hand up and both feet, so looks like you’re back in the chair for a while.”

He nodded to the far wall where a wheelchair sat, two crutches were leaning against the wall just to the side of it. 

“Yeah, no,” Rhodey said, reading his mind “You can’t use the crutches until your hand heals, they had to put twelve stitches in it. And you need a new cast too, apparently they aren’t   
waterproof.”

Tony rubbed the hand against his face again. “They set your meds up, just here,” Rhodey continued, pointing to the bedside table, knowing he would have to repeat it again later. 

“Kay,” Tony nodded, “good to know.”

He started to reach out to it and Rhodey grabbed his hand and guided it back to the bed. “I think you’ve had enough for now.”

“Kay,” he repeated tiredly. 

“You should go back to sleep. They had to stitch your feet too, so you’ll probably feel better when you’ve slept it all off.”

“Sure,” he said, leaning back into his pillow, not arguing with Rhodey’s suggestion. 

“Nat asked me to get you a new tablet.” 

Tony perked up at that, suddenly remembering throwing the old tablet, or at least trying to throw it, at Natasha.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, yesterday; and I don’t know what’s going on between you and Natasha. But I know something’s going on. We’re going to talk, you and I, later.   
Understood?”

Tony looked up at him wearily. “You’re mad at me?”

“What? Of course not, I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I’ve told you this already.”

“I’ve not fixed your legs yet,” he explained, raising a hand to point lopsidedly down at Rhodey’s legs. “I will, though. I promise.”

“Tony,” Rhodey snapped. “I don’t give a damn about that. I can spend the rest of my life in this chair if I must; I care about you!”

“I’ll fix it,” he muttered again as he started to fall back to sleep.

“Just fix yourself,” Rhodey whispered worriedly.

*

Natasha unlocked her door and headed down the hallway, into the living area she shared with Fury, except he hadn’t been there for the past two days, at least not while she had been there. So she was surprised to see him seated on a couch, pouring over what looked like a map of the US. Her anger rose faster than she expected, and she was stood over him in a second, the map he had been studying scrunched in a messy ball and tossed aside.

“What the hell?”

“How could you, how could you?”

“Care to elaborate?” he snapped.

“How could you do that to him, put that on him?”

Steve stopped in his tracks in the doorway, a glass of juice in each hand. Natasha had been so angry she hadn’t noticed his presence. She bit back a curse to herself, she was getting sloppy. 

“I can, uh, come back later?” he asked. 

“No, it’s fine, Steve,” Natasha cut in before Fury could. Let Steve hear how he had screwed Tony over. 

“No, honestly, we were just-“

“Did you know?”

Steve moved over, placing the two drinks on the table, he moved to the side where he could see his two team mates, and put a little distance between them.

“Know what?”

“That Fury told Tony about the videos, and that our only chance of defeating Ross is if he can decrypt the files depicting his torture!”

Steve asked “what?”, voice aghast, at the same time as Fury sprang up from his chair, stating “that is not what happened!”

Steve’s voice remained calm. “Then what happened, Nick? We agreed not to trouble him about this.”

“I told him about it, yes, but I put no pressure on him to get to work. I told him to wait until he was ready, until he was feeling better.”

“Come on, we all know Tony wouldn’t just wait!” Natasha cut in, furious.

“I thought it would help him, give him something to focus on, something to work towards.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, knowing something had to have happened to rile Natasha so much.

“Tony, his health, both physical and mental,” she stressed, “seems to have taken a turn for the worst since you came to him with this! He’s worked himself half to death trying to get into the footage, without anyone knowing, and worrying what else you are going to ask him to do – because after all, we all know that is the only reason we got him out of there, if you ask him that is!”

Steve shook his head wearily, made to speak, but Natasha hadn’t finished. 

“I was with him yesterday, finally got him to admit what was wrong. He’s a mess, guys, a real mess. He flipped out, smashed his computer up, broke a mirror, and his fist in the   
process, and messed his feet up too treading all over the glass in his panic. He was getting better, before, and now he’s getting worse, and it all seems to stem from your little chat with him.”

She finished, and felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the guilt on his face.

“Is this true, Nick?”

Fury held his hands on his hips as he started down at the floor. “Yes. But I didn’t expect this, I was trying to help him, I was.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like it worked,” Steve said, sighing. 

“Has he decrypted the files?”

“No,” Natasha lied, “he’s still trying to figure out how to get Friday up, when he isn’t freaking out and hurting himself,” she added angrily.

“Look,” Fury said, holding his hand up defensively. “I’ll speak to him, clear the air. Make him understand that I didn’t mean-“

“You will stay the hell away from him for now, you’ve done enough damage!”

“Fine,” Fury nodded. “Fine, you tell him, make him understand.”

“Oh, I’ve told him, it’s the making him ‘believe’ it part that’s difficult.”

Steve sat down, resting his chin on his fist. “I wanted to speak to him, about… before. It’s obviously not the right time, if he still thinks we want something from him.”

“Maybe this is the right time,” Natasha mused. “You two do need to talk. He can’t keep hiding from you or the others forever.”

Fury started to pace. “I don’t know, Rogers, you pretty much left him for dead in Siberia. I think he needs more time before-“

“I think you need to realise that through your own actions you’ve rendered your opinion unimportant.” Natasha cut in.

Fury glared at her for a moment before shaking his head, hurt. “Fine, you think you know best? I’ll just leave you too it.”

He stormed off to his room and Natasha took a seat next to Steve.

“I can talk to him, first, see if he’s ready to face you. But he does need to see you, to talk. I know he feels bad, about what happened with Bucky. He's hurting, but he knows, deep down, that it wasn't Bucky's fault.”

Steve nodded. “I need to make him understand, that I acted rashly, and I need to explain myself, why I didn’t tell him, about his parents.”

“Why didn't you?” Natasha asked. 

“I just… everything was just starting to even out, get good again, after Ultron. I didn’t want to set him back after everything. And, I was trying to protect Bucky   
too. I just hoped that, well, that it would never come up, I guess.”

Natasha rubbed his arm gently. “We’ve all messed up, Steve, everyone; some of us more than others,” she admitted. “Nobody here is completely innocent. But everything we’ve done, all the mistakes we’ve made, we were all acting, believing we were doing the right thing. That’s what we’ve got to remember.”

Steve nodded, mulling her words over. “Will you tell Tony that I’d like to speak to him, when he’s ready, to apologise?”

Nat nodded. “I’ll speak to him. That would be good, for both of you. And it might make him understand that we got him out of the Raft, to help him, not to use him.”

Steve smiled slightly. “Yeah. You’ve been avoiding me too, you know.”

Nat smiled back. “No, I haven’t, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Tony.”

“That’s good. You’ve gotten over the airport thing, then?”

Nat nodded. “Yeah, we talked, worked a few things out.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Steve said softly. “I’m not so sure it will be as easy for us.”

“All you can do is try, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he said, no conviction in his voice.

*

Tony woke a few hours later feeling slightly more aware and alert, with a low throbbing pain evident in his right hand and foot, and the still healing bullet wound feeling sharper   
than usual. He sat up and looked around the room slowly, he was alone, and any mess from the day before had been cleared up, he had slept through it all.

“’time is it Friday?” he asked, stifling a yawn, then remembered he wasn’t home, and he could only access Friday through the tablet. Which he had destroyed. Damn it.

He rubbed a hand across his face feeling the stubble, he needed a shower and shave but given the fresh bandages he was swaddled in, he decided to drop it for now. 

He thought about changing, he was still in the sweats from the day before, the sleeve of the right arm was spotted with blood. As he reached up to pull the jumper off, he felt his   
chest spike so he dropped his arms back down, instead reaching towards the side table and grabbing a syringe. He pushed his sleeve up and injected the morphine before laying back down against the bed for a few minutes until he felt the drug take effect, and the sharp edges of pain began to soften slightly.

With a huff he pushed himself back up and then made his way out of the bed and towards the chair that had been positioned next to it, wincing slightly as his feet seemed to tighten when his weight was placed on them. He settled into the chair and then went to work on pushing the wheels, it was his first attempt at pushing himself, and with two wrapped hands, progress was slow.

He made it into the kitchen area, catching his knee when he got too close to the counter. He swore as he angled his chair away from it and headed towards the sofas, stopping in his   
tracks as he saw T’Challa seated in the arm chair, making notes in a paper notebook.

“Ah, your… highness?”

T’Challa closed his notebook, then strode over, making to shake Tony’s hand, then stopping as he eyed both sets of bandages.

“Please, call me T’Challa, I think we are past all formalities. It is good to see you looking better, and I apologise for my absence. My royal duties are more time consuming than I expected.”

“It’s, fine.” Tony said, feeling uncomfortable, although he didn’t know why. “Thank you for, helping, before, with the Raft.” He mumbled. “And, for this,” he said, indicating the room.

“It is the least I could do. How are you feeling?”

Tony shrugged. “Okay,” he said honestly. “Better, then before.”

“Yes, I imagine so. We were very worried, before. You have made good progress.”

Tony just nodded, unsure of what else to say. 

“I wanted to check in with you, before I have to leave again, and this arrived for you yesterday.” He picked up a thick brown envelope and gently laid it across Tony’s knees. “I was also told you needed a new one of these?” He dropped the new tablet, this one with a bigger screen, on top of the envelope with a slight smile. “I will not ask what happened to the   
last one.”

Tony nodded awkwardly. “It got… damaged.”

“Of course. Mr Stark-“

“Tony, please!”

T’Challa smiled warmly again. “Of course. Tony. When I am back, and you are feeling up to it, I would like to discuss the Accords with you. You mentioned potential amendments, before everything that happened… I’d still welcome your thoughts on this.”

Tony looked up, surprised that T’Challa was still supporting the Accords, and the changes he had mentioned in passing, months ago. “Of course.”

T’Challa laid a hand on his shoulder gently. “Only when you are well enough. I must be going now, but please, take care of yourself.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered, tearing open the envelope as T’Challa left. It took longer than it should have with his damaged hands, but then he was able to upturn the envelope and he watched as two heavy paper documents slid out of the packaging and onto the floor. He reached over to pick the up, and smiled as he saw the first, the heavier document, was the printed copy of the Accords he had requested from Friday days ago. The second document, half an inch thick, contained transcripts from Tony’s stay at the Raft. He placed that one behind the Accords, not wanting to think about that now, not wanting to think about anything that had happened to him there.

He made his way back to his room, still struggling to manage the chair on his own. Once there, he set the new tablet up, entered the specific code and security key before he was put through the Friday once more.

“Hey Boss, did you get the documents I sent you?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, again relaxing at the sound of his AI’s voice. “Thanks.”

He placed the tablet on the bed and then moved over to the bedside table. He loaded up another syringe and quickly injected it, needing a stronger pull of numbness before he got to work. He took the printed transcript out from beneath the Accords and hid it beneath his bedsheet, below the pillow. Satisfied it would remain unseen, he moved his chair back over by the window, before calling out to Friday, voice slightly slurred from the drugs. 

“You hear me okay from there?”

“Yes Boss.”

“Okay, good. You hear anyone else come in, use the save and shut down protocol, understood?”

“Yes Boss.”

“Good, thanks, I’m reading the Accords, I’m going to narrate my suggested changes, so can you keep a running log as I talk?”

“Sure Boss,” her voice sounded surprised, almost pleased that he was leaving the evidence from the Raft alone.

“I need a break from the Raft, and these Accords,” he paused for a moment, forgetting what he was going to say. “They’re important too,” he finished off. 

He picked the heavy document up, opened the first page, and then began to skim read the dense text, stopping every minute or so to make a note for Friday to record. Hours passed this way, he got a crick in his neck and shifted position, then eventually moved from the chair to the bed, taking another hit of morphine before getting up on his feet, they still stung, but it was more manageable. 

“You ready for a break Boss?” Friday tried, a slight hint of worry in her voice. "You must be hungry?"

“Nope,” Tony replied tiredly, ignoring the rumble of his stomach. He looked at the document, he’d gotten almost halfway through the papers, there was still a lot more work to do.

“You sound tired,” she tried.

“Tired of you interrupting me?”

Friday got the message, and said no more. Tony continued to work into the night until he finally fell to sleep, hunched over the document, still in yesterday’s clothes. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thanks everyone for reading and commenting, as always, I love reading your comments, so thanks a lot!
> 
> I'm really not happy with this chapter, I've really struggled with time this week, so hopefully I'll have more time next week, and can produce something better!
> 
> I'm also going to try and wrap this up within the next 5 chapters... try!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading as always, and I'm sorry if this isn't the best read! x


	26. Chapter 26

Natasha roused Tony the next morning, noticing but not commenting on the printed copy of Accords laid across the mattress, the corners bent inwards from over use. 

“Hey,” she greeted him as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Morning.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, picking the document up and dropping it onto the second empty bedside table. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

“Just working on the required changes.”

“Sure, how about you work on getting yourself changed and cleaned up?”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t tell me I can’t pull this off,” he joked, looking down at himself.

“Yeah, musty is all the range right now.”

“You come here for a reason or just to make fun of me? Actually, why are you here, I don’t remember ordering a wake-up call?”

He reached over to pick the tablet up from where he had left it towards the end of the bed, but didn’t turn it on.

“I spoke to Fury last night. Gave him hell for telling you about the footage.”

“Did you…. tell him, that I have it?”

“No, of course not. I said you’re still working on getting Friday back up.”

“Lying to the boss?” Tony joked again, but she knew he was testing the water.

“He’s not my boss.”

“Then who is?”

“I’d say I’m between jobs right now.”

This time Tony did laugh, it jostled his ribs, but not as bad as it had before. He eyed the medication to his left but decided to leave it alone for now. He had to start easing off of the   
drugs if he wanted to truly get better.

“I also spoke to Steve,” Natasha continued.

“Oh yeah,” Tony feigned disinterest. “And what did he have to say for himself?”

“That he wants to speak to you, he wants to apologise, explain himself. He just wants to talk, really.”

Tony huffed. “Sure he does.”

“He seemed genuine. You know how Steve likes to beat himself up about things outside of his control.”

Tony’s stare turned cold. “You’re saying this was out of his control?”

“No,” she said quickly and carefully. “Not all of it. But some elements, yes. You can’t deny how this whole thing has snowballed.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I suppose.”

“So what do you say? You feeling up to speaking to him yet? I think it would do you both good, get things off of your chest. And if we’re going to take Ross down, we have to work   
together.” 

Natasha tried to ignore the way he flinched at the mention of Ross.

“I don’t think I have anything to say to him right now, actually,” he said. “Later, maybe.”

“Really, Tony? It’s been two months, almost. I’d think there might be a few things you might want to apologise for too, when I think about it. He was pretty banged up when he left   
Siberia. And, you know, Barnes was missing an arm.”

“It was self-defence,” he muttered angrily.

“Really?”

Tony shook his head as he let out a deep sigh. “Not really, no. Maybe a little. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that.”

“How about tonight? I can make dinner in my room, kick Fury out for the night, and you can both come over, mutual ground.”

“Mutual ground? What is this? No!” he said, exasperated. “He wants to talk to me, he can come to me.”

“Okay, fine, if you’re sure? Tonight??”

Tony nodded. “Fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you, if it’s too soon, but I think it will help.”

“You don’t want to pressure me? I’m pretty sure this is you pressuring me.”

“Yes, fine,” she smiled. “For your own good.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll speak to Captain Righteous.”

“Yeah, please don’t turn up with that attitude.”

“Can’t guarantee that,” he snapped, then held a hand up in apology. “Do I think it will achieve anything? No. But if you want me to do it, I’ll do it.”

“8pm?”

“Fine,” Tony huffed again, “it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Great,” she said. “I have to go, I’m doing some physio with Rhodey today. I’ll see you later?”

“Wait, no,” he muttered distractedly. “Just Steve. No offence Nat, but I don’t want an audience.”

“Well, I’m not sure how Rhodey would feel about that, he was planning on being there too.”

“What? I don’t need a babysitter. Just Rogers, nobody else. Make sure Rhodey gets that message too. Maybe you can “cook” that meal for him.”

Natasha stared at him for a moment for nodding. “Fine, if you’re sure.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled about this, but whatever.”

“Just… promise me you’ll-“

“I’m not promising anyone anything!” he snapped again.

“Hear me out,” she snapped back, getting fed up of his mood swings. “Just, promise me you’ll at least listen to him. That’s all I’m asking. Please.”

“Fine,” Tony sulked, not entirely meaning the words. “See you later.”

He watched Natasha leave before reaching for the syringe, deciding he needed a shot now. He would cut back after his meeting with Rogers, he had a feeling he would need all the help he could get to make it through the evening. After medicating himself he shuffled up the bed and pulled the transcript from the Raft footage out from beneath the sheets.   
He looked at the cover for a moment, before turning the first page over clumsily with his wrapped hands. He’d spent the previous day trying not to think about the Raft, to distract himself from it, but if he was going to face Steve, he wanted to be as prepared as possible, and that meant knowing exactly what had happened when Steve had been on the Raft, before leaving him.

He dropped the paper print out on his lap as he logged Friday back into the new tablet. 

“Morning Boss!” she chirped, and he couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Hey Fri, I’m just on the transcript you got me. Can you give me a page reference for every mention of Rogers, in there; and anything from his breaks in… both times, actually?”

He noted the page numbers and then hastily flipped the pages over to find the relevant sections. He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard before he started to read.

*

It didn’t take long for Tony to read the relevant sections, Ross hadn’t wasted too much time questioning him about the location of Rogers of the others, and had only used his name a few times when mocking him, trying to break him down. 

Friday had included a full transcript from the first rescue attempt. It twisted sharply in his stomach, as he read about his old team mates wondering if he was waiting for them, outside the Raft, to stop their escape – was that how little they thought of him? It hurt almost as much as Wanda’s, “I’ll deal with him,” statement, she sounded almost hopeful, wanting him to be there. But it was Clint’s follow up that really hurt, his cold “that’s good enough for me” response. Tony felt his hands tremble as he read the words; why did Clint hate him so much, so suddenly? 

He threw the transcript onto the floor angrily, before pushing both hands against his skull, creating as much pressure as he could with his weakened hands.

The print out confirmed that the team hadn’t known he was being held in the Raft, that was something, at least. But the way in which they discussed him during the escape, he honestly thought that had they known he was there, they would have just left him anyway. 

He cursed quietly to himself, feeling hot and angry, betrayed almost, and then yelled out a “fu*k” as loudly as he could before he slammed his hand against his thigh in frustration.   
He climbed down from the bed, swaying slightly as he leant down to retrieve the discarded document. He moved over to the window and stared out at the bright sunlight for a moment before sliding down the wall to the carpeted floor and bringing his knees up to his chest, ignoring the way it made his chest ache. He sighed, then went back to the transcript and turned the pages back over until he was at the very first page, and began to read. He read in silence, reading the entire transcript detailing his stay, the questions, the escalation from questioning to beatings and then torture. Rhodey, the Spider kid, the second rescue attempt, Ross shooting him. He read it all, barely blinking, barely breathing, it took over an hour to get through it all.

When it was over and he was finished he dropped the papers and leant his head back against the wall taking deep, shuddering breaths. He wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. Ross had tried to kill him, but he was still here. He didn’t know what to feel, everything was mushed up in his head.

He closed his eyes as he imagined the scenes descripted in the small black font, Steve and Natasha trying to keep him alive, T’Challa on the phone, demanding assistance, Clint, deserting them, Lang, even, on the speaker system, mocking Ross, even Wanda had come to help, probably as a favor to Clint or Steve, rather than any concern for him. He could smell the blood, and when he closed his eyes he felt as though he could remember the panicked voices, even though he had been mostly unconscious at that point. He clenched his fists and held back the emotion, the pain and frustration, but he could feel it building in his chest, thrashing inside his body, desperate for escape.

“Damn it!” he yelled as his eyes finally welled once again. He fisted a hand in his hair and pulled at the dirty strands in a weak attempt to distract himself.

“I was doing the right thing,” he hissed to the empty room, desperate. “I was trying to do the right thing. Why didn’t this work, why-why-“ he stammered, breath hitching in his throat. 

Steve, he thought, Steve hadn’t left him there on purpose. And he came back for him, they all did, when they realised where he was. But he couldn’t dampen the anger that still roared through him at the thought of the man. So he hadn’t left him, in the Raft. But he had still left him in Siberia. Had still lied to him. Lied, to his face, about his parents… his mother’s murder…

He had no choice but to cry. He felt his chest heave and his body shake and then he was curled in on himself, head bowed as he leaned against the wall and sobbed, unable to control himself. The outburst felt endless but eventually the tremors lessened and his eyes dried, though his face was wet and he felt exhausted. 

He scrambled to his feet, not feeling the pain from the cuts, but feeling weak and fragile from the outburst of emotion. He stumbled over to the table and gave himself another shot, then straightened up and headed to the bathroom, ignoring the wheelchair and the crutches, instead lurching against the wall as he made it into the room. There was no sign of the mess he had made before, but the mirror on the wall hadn’t been replaced. Probably for the best, he decided, ripping the bandage from his hip, the one covering his ear quickly followed. He unravelled both sets from his hands and left them in the sink. The fresh stitches in his hand stood out, the black thread looked wrong against his pale hand.   
Forgetting the bandages still covering his feet he climbed into the shower, turned the water onto the strongest and coldest setting, then leant against the wall, holding onto the hand rail to ensure he remained upright. The spray was strong and the water icy, he closed his eyes, face scrunched up, but he welcomed the pain of the cold, it helped him empty his mind, taking him away from everything plaguing his mind, Ross, the Raft, Rogers, Clint, Rhodey’s injury, his parents murder. He tightened his grip on the rail, relaxing as the thoughts left his mind, even as his body began to shiver and tremble, he welcomed it, any kind of distraction was welcome. 

Eventually, after a long time, the power of the spray began to fade and the water trickled to a stop. Tony waited a while longer, not wanting to get out just yet, not wanting the distraction to end, but it did, so he climbed out of the shower, struggling to pick up the towel with badly shaking hands. He wrapped it around himself loosely, then made his way unsteadily back to bed, his limbs stiff and aching from the cold. 

He collapsed down onto the sheets, still dripping wet and shivering. He looked down at his chest, noticed how the burn marks that littered his skin were almost a purple colour, probably from the cold, he thought, before reaching over and taking another dose of morphine. He wasn’t in that much pain, but he knew it would warm him, ease his muscles, and help to distract him. He depressed the plunger on the syringe and discarded it and picking up the tablet. 

“Time’s it,” he asked Friday, even though the time was displayed on the screen. 

“Its 4pm Sir.”

“Wake me up before Roger’s comes,” he grumbled, dropping the tablet, no longer able to hold it up with his trembling hands, which combined with the drug seemed to weaken him as it kicked in, numbing him, taking him away. He went with it, wanting to just block everything out for a few hours at least, before he had to finally face Rogers. 

* 

He slept fitfully, despite the drugs, and woke up suddenly with a jolt, covered in sweat despite the chill he still felt. He looked around confused before reality seeped into his consciousness, and the dream faded. He looked at the time, he still had a good hour before Roger’s was due. He rubbed his hands over his face tiredly before stretching and getting out of bed. 

He noticed the damp bandages on his feet and reached down and pulled them off before rolling them up and tossing them towards the window. He ambled over to the dresser and pulled out fresh clothing and underwear. He laid the clothes out on his bed, then pulled a pair of thick socks on over his feet, wincing slightly as he pulled the material over the still healing cuts on the soles of his feet. Dressing was a slow affair, but eventually he had finished, and he had to admit the fresh sweat pants and t-shirt made him feel better. 

He hobbled to the bathroom, again wincing as the pressure in his feet seemed to build. Once there he washed his face and brushed his teeth. He wanted to shave but decided against it, with two bad hands and no mirror, it wouldn’t be a good idea. He ran some water through his hair to slick it back, then huffed as he made it back to the chair in his room, thoroughly out of breath despite the small effort required to get dressed and washed. He picked the tablet up, informed Friday that he didn’t need the wake-up call, then checked up on the latest updates that had been compiled on Ross, there wasn’t much to report.

He got up again, deciding to give himself another load of morphine, if he took it now, the initial rush would fade before he had to face Rogers. He injected it quickly, deciding this to be the best course of action. He checked the time, he still had time before Rogers was due. He settled back down in his seat, and asked Friday to bring up the recordings from his suit, he wanted to review the footage from Siberia. Friday tried to delay him, to talk him out of it, but he spoke over her, ordering her to play the footage. 

He chewed on his lip as he watched the footage, recorded on his suit camera, he watched the whole thing, from his arrival at the facility, to Steve bringing the shield down on to his suit to disable it. The footage finished, and he ordered Friday to play it again from the start, feeling detached as he watched the fight play out before him again. 

He shut the tablet off, decided to go into the living area and be ready for Steve. He glanced at the crutches and then shook his head, he would walk in their on his own steam, he had to. He left the tablet on his bed and then took another shot of morphine, forgetting about the one he had already taken, desperate not to appear weak before Steve.

He ran his hands through his hair again and then gently fingered the skin of his ear, it felt hard and the edges were sharp and he was glad the mirror hadn’t been replaced, he really didn’t want to know how bad it looked. He left his room, heading down the corridor to the sitting area. His steps were slow but steadier than they had been, though he kept a hand pressed against the wall as he moved, scared of losing his balance. 

He unlocked the door to their rooms and then settled himself on the couch. Steve could let himself in, he decided, he wasn’t going to meet and greet him, he would stay seated, he didn’t want Steve to see him huffing and puffing from taking the fifteen steps from the door to the couch.

He settled back in his seat, feeling suddenly drained and tired. He blinked his eyes a few times and then slapped at his cheek, fighting the pull that was overcoming him. He leant forwards and played with the dry, damaged skin on his burnt fingers, wondering if his ear looked the same. 

He made to check the time and realised he wasn’t wearing a watch, hadn’t seen his watch since he was taken to the Raft. He wondered where it was, did Ross have it, or did the team find it and bring it back for him? He’d ask Rogers, he decided, when he turned up. Ice breaker, he thought, and then laughed out loud to himself for a moment before leaning back in his seat, letting his head drop back against the cushion as he closed his eyes, unintentionally. His head slipped to the left as he shifted slightly, he didn’t right it, he was asleep.

*

Steve stopped outside of the door, at 7.59pm. He felt nervous and anxious, concern and guilt all twisting up in his stomach. He needed to talk to Tony, needed to make him understand why he had done what he had done, even if it hadn’t always been in the man’s best interest; he had still been trying to do the right thing. He knew Tony had every right to be angry and at him, he just wanted to make the man understand that whatever he had done, he hadn’t set out to intentionally hurt him.

It was 8.00pm. 

He knocked gently at the door, waited a moment, and then knocked again, louder. He waited another full minute, listening hard, hearing no activity on the other side of the door. Had Tony stood him up? Maybe he was punishing him, or this was some form of power play. 

Steve knocked again, one last time, getting annoyed. He turned and strode away, then stopped and turned back, listening again at the door, but he couldn’t hear anything. He turned the doorknob gently, surprised when it opened, and let himself in.

“Tony?” He called out, closing the door behind him. He passed through a kitchen and saw Tony seated on the couch in the living area. 

“Tony, hey?” he called out, frowning when the man didn’t move. 

He moved around the couch to face the man, and saw that he was sleeping. Steve took a step back, looking him over carefully. He looked, better. A lot better, than when they had taken him back from the Raft. But he still looked ill. He was pale and thin, and looked haggard, not his usually well-groomed self. He studied the skin on his ear and swallowed hard, knowing an injury like that would be painful for a long time. 

Steve wondered if he should wake the man or leave, and decided to leave, he wasn’t sure Tony would appreciate the thought of him being here while he slept. He turned to leave, then stopped suddenly, turning back around.

“Tony?” he asked, suddenly scared. 

He looked at Tony again, noticing the way his chest was definitely not moving. He reached a hand out and held it just before the man’s mouth, cursing to himself as he grabbed the man’s wrist, noticing the heavy stitches in his hand, and felt for a pulse. It was there, but barely.

He pulled out his phone and quickly called Natasha, not sure who else to call. 

“Please don’t tell me you’ve left already,” she answered, skipping any form of greeting.

“I’m here, he’s, he’s not breathing!”

“What?”

“Send help, now!”

He hung up, then grabbed Tony, picking him up and laying him on the floor, unable to not notice how light the man’s weight was in his hands. 

“Come on,” he hissed, starting chest compressions. “Don’t do this, Tony,” he said, voice desperate, breaking off to breathe into the man’s mouth. He repeated the cycle three more   
times before a team of medics rushed into the room. 

Steve staggered out of the way and watched as they worked on Tony, pressing an oxygen mask against his face as they continued with the chest compressions. A minute later and they were cutting his shirt open and using a defibrillator to shock him, another man injecting something into his chest over his heart. 

Steve listened to the medics, unable to understand their language, but the urgency was clear in their actions. Tony was shocked a second time, Steve held his breath, watching as the man’s back arched off of the ground, his face slack and lifeless.

“Please Tony,” he whispered to himself, terrified. “Don’t do this.”

A high pitched beep sounded from the medic’s equipment, and the defibrillator was pushed to one side as they reattached the oxygen mask to his face. Then they were lifting him onto a gurney Steve hadn’t even noticed, and then they were gone, wheeling him away, still focused on their patient, still showing signs of concern, even though it appeared he was breathing again.

Natasha rushed into the room, out of breath and worried. “What happened?” she asked, and Steve couldn’t help but feel defensive. 

“I don’t know, I found him like that- I – I thought he was asleep, but he was just…. He wasn’t breathing. I don’t know how long… they, they seemed to get him breathing again, but I don’t know – his – his heart?”

Natasha grabbed his hand. “Come on,” she said, “we need to be there.”

“I thought he was better, you said he was better!” Steve snapped, unlike him.

“He was,” Natasha said, shocked. “I thought he was,” she corrected herself quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and please, please, PLEASE leave your comments!
> 
> Thanks x


	27. Chapter 27

Six hours later, and Rhodey was exhausted. They had let him into the room to sit by Tony’s bedside two hours ago, after they had finished working on him, and were confident he was stable. He was back on the heart monitor, it beeped every minute or so, Rhodey found it reassuring. He held Tony’s hand in his, the skin on his fingers cold and hard from the burns, but Rhodey had gotten used to it minutes in. 

He didn’t know what had happened, nobody did. When he first arrived he had flipped out on Natasha and Steve, not knowing what had happened, but sure they were to blame. They had seemed as shocked and concerned as he was, but he didn’t care, he knew they were to blame, somehow, and later, he would get to the bottom of it.

He looked Tony over again, his skin seemed to have a blue tint to it, and large dark bags sat below his eyes. Other than that, and if you ignored the skin on his ear, the wires running into him and the oxygen mask, he looked okay, all things considered. Yet looks can be deceiving, he thought, and something was clearly wrong. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked his friend, knowing he wouldn’t get a response, the doctor had informed him that Tony was heavily sedated and wouldn’t be up for hours. 

He shook his head as the doctor’s words still rolled through his mind, his brain unable or unwilling to process them or accept them. “Overdose,” they had said, “he took too much morphine.”

“It was an accident, a mistake,” he muttered, “I know that, Tony.” He did know it. He had to believe it. Tony hadn’t tried to hurt himself, no way. 

He’d taken offence, first, at the doctor’s words, and had defended Tony, insisting it was his heart failing again. But test results don’t lie, and neither, he learned, do the Wakandan doctors and nurses. The nurse who had set the medial station up in his bedroom just days ago collected the remaining vials, and confirmed that Tony had gotten through what they would expect to be used over twelve days, in three. 

“I know it was a mistake,” he said again, more firmly, as his grip tightened. “We’ll get this sorted, we’ll get you fixed up and then we’ll figure all this out.”

Rhodey looked at his watch. He’d kicked Steve and Natasha out of the room, and barred entry to Fury when he had tried to force himself in. T’Challa was away, not due back for a few days, and for some reason he was relieved about that. Rhodey would catch up with the King when he returned, but he had called a meeting with the others for later that evening. Until then, he’d ordered the guard on the door to keep everyone out of the room. Just over a couple of hours to go, then they would talk. He had no idea what he was going to say, how he could explain all of this when he didn’t understand it himself?

*

Steve, Natasha and Fury were waiting when Rhodey arrived in the meeting room, struggling to open the door and wheel himself through it. He was startled when Clint rushed over to hold the door open for him. He passed through then glanced up at Clint again, realisation sinking in. 

“Thanks, but what the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be under arrest?”

“He was being detained, he wasn't arrested,” Natasha cut in.

“So why the hell aren’t you still being detained?” Rhodey snapped.

“He’s been out for a few days, Rhodey.” Steve said, trying to calm the tension.

“Can you not speak for yourself?” he glared at Clint.

Clint held his hands out, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Rhodey. I understand that you’re mad at me, what I did was… I was out of order. Way out of order. All I want to do is see Tony, explain, try and explain, and make up for what I did to him, and to, all of you.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“Is he… okay?”

Clint had been updated, but he only knew as much as the others did.

“Where are the others?” Rhodey asked, moving closer to the table that sat between them.

“It’s just us. I thought it best we keep this to ourselves for now.”

“Good,” Rhodey agreed, “I don’t want anyone outside of this room knowing what happened.”

“Rhodey, how is he?” Steve asked. The concern in his eyes seemed genuine, but Rhodey was still pissed.

“What happened, when you found him? Did you two fight again?”

Steve was aghast. “What? No! Rhodey, no, absolutely not! I arrived, as arranged. I knocked, there was no answer. I let myself in, he was asleep on the couch. I was about to leave, and I realised… I don’t know, I realised something was off. I checked him over, saw he wasn’t breathing, called Natasha to get help, and started CPR.”

“That’s it? He was like that when you got there?”

Steve nodded. “Rhodey,” he said, voice desperate. “He is okay, isn’t he?”

Rhodey nodded. “Look, what I am about to tell you, it doesn’t leave this room, understood?”

They all nodded. Rhodey’s gaze lingered on Clint longer than any of the others.

“Look,” Clint said quietly. “The only reason I’m not locked in my room is because Tony requested I be released, he wanted to start working on fixing this mess, not making it worse.   
But if you don’t want me here for this conversation, that fine, I’ll leave. I understand.”

Rhodey shook his head. “No, it’s fine. But I just… I need to be able to trust you all, that this information stays between us, and nobody else.”

He waited until they all nodded again. “Okay,” he said, then waited a minute, no idea what to say, how to explain, to make them understand. “Okay, so… he’s stable. The medics are confident he can make a full recovery. He’s going to need to stay in the centre a few days, maybe a week, but then he should be released.”

“What happened?” 

“He… they think… they said…” be broke off to scratch the beard he was currently growing, it had more grey in it than he would like to admit. “The morphine, they gave him. He took too much. He… he overdosed.”

The room went silent. 

“It was obviously an accident,” Rhodey carried on quickly. “He is still in a lot of pain, so he probably didn’t realise-“

“Nobody would think this was intentional,” Steve cut in, supporting Rhodey. “This just shows how unwell he really is.”

Rhodey nodded his thanks. “We’re lucky you found him when you did, if you hadn’t…” he broke off and rubbed at his eye discreetly. 

“And long lasting effects?”

“They don’t think so. They’ve done some tests, it looks good. He was lucky, and I mean really lucky.”

“So when can we see him?”

Rhodey shook his head. “No, no way. Firstly, he’s… unwell. Going to be unwell, for a few days, I mean. The doctors are going to take control of his medication, keep his doses regulated and regular. They are anticipating some withdrawal symptoms.”

“That’s...” Clint shook his head. “That’s bad. How much was he taking?”

“He was taking what he needed to take to get through the pain,” Rhodey snapped, the accusation clear in his voice. “Now,” he paused, folding his hands over his lap. “I want to know what's been going on, and I mean everything.”

“What?” Steve looked confused, and Rhodey instantly dismissed his involvement.

“Fury, Natasha. I want to know what’s been going on with him. This last week or so, he’s gotten worse and worse, mentally. He’s been stressed, distracted, short tempered, and just not himself. The more he’s declined, the more you two have been around. Especially you, Natasha. I want to know what you’ve been working on, what you’ve been whispering about with him. All of it. If you really want to help Tony, and fix all of this, you need to be honest, we all need to be honest, and work together. So start talking, no bullshit please.”

Fury rubbed his head. “Fine, okay.” He stood up and began to pace, suddenly looking old. “This is probably my fault, on some level. I told Tony about the footage, that we had taken it from the Raft and needed his help to decrypt it. I probably should have waited.” He held his hand out to stop Rhodey from interrupting him. “I thought I was helping him, giving him something to focus on, to work towards, I told him there was no rush, but that when he was feeling better, his help would be appreciated.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Something to work towards? You know Tony’s like a dog with a bone, once something needs doing, he won’t stop until he’s done it!”

“I thought he needed something to think about other than his recovery. But this was over two weeks ago, he seemed to be doing okay, I thought he was getting better.”

“He was,” Rhodey said, deflated. “Natasha?”

Natasha watched him carefully. “He confided in me, about Fury’s request. He was trying to get Friday back up and running… he was… stressed.”

Rhodey watched her, weighing up her words. “Why did he speak to you, and not me?” he fought to keep his voice neutral.

“He didn’t want to put anything else on you, he already felt bad enough about your injury. He didn’t want to distract you from your recovery.”

Rhodey sighed sadly. “While you were all distracting him from his.”

The room went silent. Fury glared back at Rhodey, but Natasha looked down at the table, nodding her head in agreement.

Rhodey sighed. “So that’s it? That’s all you’ve been working on?”

Natasha nodded and Rhodey looked away, agitated. He guessed it made sense, the pressure, the video files hanging over him. It would be tough, he wouldn’t want anyone to see what happened to him in the Raft. So being asked to make that footage available, he could understand how it could have made his friend crack, on top of everything else that had been going on.

“Nat,” Clint was watching her carefully, head tilted to the side. “You sure that’s all?”

“Clint, don’t,” she warned.

Steve perked up at this. “Natasha, if you’re holding something back…”

“I’m not.” 

“Widow?” Fury asked, distrust clear in his eyes.

She threw her hands up in the air as they continued to stare at her. “I can’t break Tony’s confidence.”

“What?” Rhodey was furious. “You can’t break his confidence? He is back in a hospital bed, again, sedated because he overdosed on his medication, and you’re suddenly concerned about looking out for him now, after you helped put him there?”

Natasha shook her head, looking away.

“Widow,” Fury repeated, a hard edge to his voice. “If you have information, you better share it, now.”

“Fine,” she nodded. “Okay. I’ve been working with Tony. He’s got Friday back up. He’s obtained and decrypted the video files from the Raft. He even watched some of them. He   
didn’t want anyone to know.”

Everyone was stunned, Rhodey got over the shock first. 

“You let him watch that! What were you thinking?” his rage was clear to see.

“No, I didn’t let him do anything. I could see something was wrong with him, so I spoke to him, and he confided in me. I tried to talk him out of watching the footage, but I couldn’t,   
but I managed to at least convince him to watch them with me, and not alone.”

“He watched all of that?” Steve paled.

“No. He… didn’t cope well, with what he saw. He was determined to know what he told Ross, if he’d put anyone in danger. But he didn’t, he didn’t give anyone up. Friday convinced   
him of that. He watched some footage, he wanted to be sure, but it was too hard. I begged him to not watch anymore, and he finally agreed.”

“What was he going to do with it?” Fury shook his head. “You know we need that footage!” He slapped his hand against the table with frustration.

“He didn’t want you to know, so I didn’t tell you.”

“What is he planning on doing with it?” Fur repeated.

“I don’t know. For now, he just wanted to make sure he didn’t give anything up. He didn’t want anyone to know he had Friday back, he’s worried we’ll make him use her for   
something he doesn’t agree with.”

“It’s obvious Tony doesn’t trust us right now, and I don’t blame him,” Steve cut in, trying to get the conversation back on track. “We need to wait until he’s doing better, and then discuss this with him. See how he wants to play things out. Make him realise that the ball is in his court. That he’s safe here. That we’re all on the same side.”

Rhodey nodded. “I’d appreciate it, if you’d all stay away from him, for now. At least until he’s out of the medical centre. Then we’ll take it from there. On his terms.”

They all nodded, each person looking both worried and uncomfortable. Clint unfolded a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Rhodey. 

“Will you give this to him, when he’s feeling better? It’s, I wrote it about a week ago… just give it him, please? It’s up to him if he reads it or not.”

Rhodey nodded and took the paper, pushing it into his pocket. He waited in the room until the others had left and he was alone. He sat still, thinking the conversation over and over. Tony had the footage, he had watched some of it… with Natasha. He felt a mixture of jealousy that Tony had confided in Natasha, and not himself, and guilt. Guilt, that Tony was still blaming his accident on himself. It was a small mercy that he hadn’t watched it alone, but still. He shouldn’t even know about the footage yet… but to have obtained, decrypted and viewed it as well, it was just too much. He already had enough to deal with, and then with the reconciliation with Rogers on top of everything else… it was no wonder he had finally snapped. 

“Damn it!” Rhodey screamed, grabbing the table edge and flipping it, it landed on its side awkwardly and he longed to kick it onto its back, but he couldn’t. He slapped at his leg in frustration and then punched the arm of his chair. “God damn it!”

They had done this to him, all of them, himself included, pushing Tony here, and prodding him there, when he should had been left alone to recover. They had pushed him too far, and he had snapped. He left the room, struggling with the door again. Once through the doorway and into the hallway, he headed back towards the medical centre, towards Tony’s room, determined to be there when his friend woke up. 

For the first time, as he made his way slowly towards his friend’s room, Rhodey wondered if the overdose had been an accident after all. Was it deliberate? He honestly didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am so sorry I didn't post a chapter last week, I truly am!
> 
> Life has been really busy these last few weeks, I have the rest of this story plotted in my head, but I've been struggling to find the time to get it out of my head and on here!
> 
> I got so many fab comments on the last chapter, which I really appreciate, so thank you so much!
> 
> I apologise that this chapter is a little light on Tony, but I have at least made a start on the next chapter, so Ishould be back on track with the weekly updates!
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading, and please leave me comments! x


	28. Chapter 28

It was morning before Tony finally roused. Rhodey had drifted on and off throughout the night but refused to leave the room, then refused to sleep on the bed that was brought in for him, he refused to leave his friends side. The sun was rising when Tony started to stir, he started to fidget first, growing restless in his sleep, first fingers gently scratching at the mattress, then he reached a hand up to pull the oxygen mask away from his face. Rhodey gently tugged his hand away, leaving the mask in place. He was leaning over the bed as much as was possible in his chair when the patient finally opened his eyes, staring at Rhodey blearily for a full minute before blinking and looking around the room slowly.

“Morning,” Rhodey said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “How…how are you feeling?”

Tony looked confused. He reached a hand towards the face mask again, unsteadily, and this time Rhodey took pity and helped him pull it down over his face, resting it against his neck.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking around the room again, confused, reactions slow.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought hard, concentration lines marring his forehead. 

“Rogers?” he tried. “Did we fight?”

“No, no!” Rhodey cut in quickly. “You’re… not well. Steve found you, he helped you, actually.”

Tony closed his eyes again. “Don’t remember,” he muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. 

“That’s okay. How do you feel?”

“Tired,” he admitted.

“Anything else?” The nurses had warned him that despite the drugs, he would still feel some of the side effects from the withdrawal, medication could only mask so much.

“Nah,” he drawled, forcing his eyes open. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Heart?” He could hear the heart monitor, its constant beeping already giving him a small headache. 

“No. It’s not that.” Rhodey didn’t know what else to say.

Tony’s eyes had drifted shut again. “Then what?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Look, you need to rest, we’ll catch up later,” he said, lifting the mask back up and propping it on Tony’s face. “You’ll feel better later,” he added guiltily.

“I’m fine now,” he grumbled, beneath the mask, despite the fact that he was already drifting back off to sleep. Rhodey held his breath for a minute or two, then let out one long sigh   
of relief as he realised Tony was sleeping again. He cursed at himself silently for being so unprepared, he needed to get a hold of himself before Tony woke again.

*

Three hours later and Tony was awake again, more lucid this time, and more sore. 

“Hey,” he said, able to remove the face mask himself this time.

“I think they put that on you for a reason?” Rhodey said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Aching a little,” Tony admitted, “feel a little… drowsy. What happened, what’s wrong with me?”

“Look,” Rhodey said, suddenly finding the wall just above Tony’s head very interesting. “Your body is going through the effects of a withdrawal.”

Tony scoffed. “What? Uh, what are you talking about?”

Rhodey stared at him hard, trying to read his reaction. 

“I, uh, I haven’t even had a drink since-“ he stopped short, remembering the exact time he had last taken a drink, almost a full bottle, after Ross had jammed it down his throat. He swallowed hard. 

“I’m not talking about alcohol,” Rhodey said gently. “It’s from the medication, your morphine. You took too much, too often, the last dose... They said it was a snowball effect. When   
Steve found you, you weren’t breathing… you almost died.”

Tony looked confused again. “I – I… what?”

“It was a mistake, I’m sure. Were you taking note of how much you were taking?”

“What?” Tony looked at him coldly. “You’re sure? You’re sure, are you?” He spat angrily, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Calm down, I didn’t mean anything, it’s just. That’s what happened. You’ve been taking a higher level of pain relief than the doctors expected, since you were released. Do you know how often you were-“

Tony interrupted him with a harsh laugh, running a hand through his dirty hair. “I was taking it when I was in pain. It hurt, a lot, so I took, a lot. That’s what they told me –“ he broke off, exasperated. “I didn’t want to take any! I refused, and you talked me into it, told me to ‘take as much as I need,’ and now you’re accusing me of – what, what exactly are you   
accusing me of!?”

“Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Tony. You just need to take more care, going forwards,” Rhodey spoke calmly.

“Yeah, no.” Tony said, glaring at his friend.

“No what?”

“Nope,” Tony shook his head. “I did it your way, now you – you think I tried to off myself or something?”

“Nobody thinks that! That’s not what I’m saying, not at all. We’re just worried, and we need to be more careful, keep track-”

Tony shrugged. “I did it your way, and now you’re looking at my like I’m some- I don’t even know what! No, no way. We go back to doing it my way. That means no more meds. Nothing.”

“You need-“

“Didn’t you just hear me? Nothing!”

He started fiddling with the drip in his arm, smiling successfully as he managed to yank it out, ignoring the sharp sting of pain and the blood dripping from the entry point as he looked at Rhodey triumphantly. “Nothing.”

Rhodey just shook his head. “So you want to do this the hard way instead?”

“No,” Tony said, suddenly paling. “Not the hard way, just… my way.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

Neither he nor Rhodey were expecting it when he suddenly threw up over the side of the bed.

* 

The next day, Rhodey finally left the room to go shower, eat and change into some fresh clothes. He left Clint's letter in his desk drawer, not wanting to put that on Tony until he was feeling better. He was annoyed to see Natasha leaning against the wall in the entrance to the medical centre as he headed back towards Tony’s room. 

“What do you want?” he asked as he wheeled past her.

“You’re still angry with me?”

“Yes,” he said, still not looking at her. “No, I’m not angry. More like… annoyed, really.”

“Fair enough. How’s Tony doing?” she asked as she kept up with him. 

Rhodey shook his head, saying nothing, continuing to navigate his way through the hall.

“Rhodey,” Natasha snapped, suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

Rhodey finally stopped. “Nothing,” he said, “he’s okay. He’s just refusing to take any more pain medication, which wasn’t his best idea, given he’s going through a pretty bad withdrawal.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad?”

“It wasn’t, when he was taking the medication to help deal with it. Without them, the withdrawal is hitting him hard. He was already weak, before this.”

“How is he feeling?”

“They put a nurse in the room yesterday afternoon, 24/7 for the next three days, and he hasn’t ordered her out.”

Natasha’s eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“He’s struggling. But he’s being stubborn too, he’s refusing anything that isn’t for his heart, anything that could make this easier.” Rhodey grimaced, the pressure was getting to him. “He seems intent on making this harder on himself.”

“He’s just proving a point,” Natasha mused, “that he doesn’t need the drugs.”

“He doesn’t need to prove that to anyone!”

“Maybe he’s proving it to himself?” she shrugged. “I’d like to see him, when he’s feeling better.”

“Why, got more psychologically damaging work you need him to do?” Rhodey snapped. He saw the look of hurt on her face and softened. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You were just helping him, or trying to, I know that. It’s not like Fury, you weren’t actively trying to force him into anything.”

Natasha bit her lip. “That’s not entirely true, I did push him into facing Steve.”

Rhodey’s shoulders slumped. “Well, if you hadn’t, he might not have been found in time.”

“Sure,” Natasha said, unconvincingly.

“Look, I gotta go. I need to see how he is. I still need to talk to him about… everything. But not until he’s feeling better. Physically, he isn’t great, but mentally? I have no idea how much more he can take.”

“Just, let us know how he’s doing, and when he’s up for visitors. We’re all worried.”

“Yeah, me too,” Rhodey shook his head as he left Natasha in the hallway. He made it to Tony’s room and was confused when the guard on the door didn’t move to let him in. 

“Can you get the door?” he asked.

“Sorry Sir, you are not prohibited to enter.” 

“What? I’ve just left this room, not two hours ago. I’m the only one who is allowed in.”

“Sorry Sir, my orders have changed.”

“What?”

“The patient has requested full privacy.”

Rhodey shook his head. “I’m his next of kin, I need to go in.”

“That doesn’t make any difference Sir, you’re no longer authorised to enter.”

“Tony!” Rhodey yelled, furious. “Let me in, now!”

There was no sound from the other side of the door. 

“Let me in damn it!”

Again, nothing. For a second, Rhodey recklessly considered ramming the guard in the shins with his wheelchair, but he knew that wouldn’t achieve anything. Instead he manoeuvred his chair so he was sat opposite the door, allowing enough room for any nurses or doctors to pass in and out unobstructed. 

“Fine,” he yelled again, voice straining. “I’ll just wait here. I’m not leaving Tony! When you change your mind… I’ll be right here.”

*

Hours later and Rhodey’s frustration had turned into tiredness. He dozed in his chair, but jerked upright, waking immediately as the door he was facing finally opened. 

A nurse squeezed past him and headed down the hallway. A second nurse smiled at him softly, and decided to take pity on him.

“Your friend is sleeping,” she said, her accent strong, Rhodey struggled to understand for a moment. 

“Good, good. Could I – could I please see him? Just for a moment? Then I leave, I’ll promise.”

The nurse turned and spoke to the guard in their native language, they went back and forth for a moment before the nurse gave a shy smile and the guard huffed. 

“One minute,” she said gently, then opened the door, welcoming him into the room.

Rhodey wheeled himself into the room slowly, making his way to Tony’s bedside. He was sleeping, deeply, it seemed, face pale and still, his mouth open slightly. His body was trembling slightly beneath the thin sheet covering him.

“Is he okay?” Rhodey asked, voice hoarse. 

“He will be, give or take a few days. His refusal of any aids has made this tougher than it needed to be, but he should make a full recovery.”

Rhodey reached over and gently laid the back of his hand against his forehead. It came away damp. 

“He’s hot, he’s sweating.”

The nurse nodded again, smiling slightly. “Yes, he has a fever. It’s one of the side effects of the withdrawal. But he will be feeling better in a day or two.”

Rhodey nodded, staring at the figure on the bed, he looked almost peaceful. The thought made Rhodey’s stomach turn. Not so long ago they had almost lost him, again. This was unacceptable.

“I appreciate your concern,” the nurse said, breaking him from his train of thought. “But you need to leave now. He doesn’t want visitors until he is feeling better. Not all aspects of his treatment have been this dignified, so you need to leave now.”

Rhodey wanted to argue, wanted to refuse, but he knew he needed to go. It wouldn’t be fair to the nurse, or to Tony.

“Okay,” he said, turning away as a wave of emotion suddenly overcame him. “When he wakes, will you tell him, just…” Rhodey didn’t know what to say. “Just tell him, that I’m waiting, and I’ll be here for him, when he’s ready?”

The nurse smiled softly. “Of course.”

“I’ll always be here,” he whispered as he left the room, head bowed, shoulders slumped in defeat 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for sticking with this, and for all your wonderful comments!
> 
> This chapter is shorter than I intended, life is just so busy right now! But it's still all in my head, just need more time to get it written down! But I will keep at it and hopefully things should progress soon!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and please leave me your comments, I love comments!
> 
> Thanks x


	29. Chapter 29

It was five full days before Rhodey saw Tony again. He stopped by his hospital room each day, and was denied entry each time, although the same nurse slipped out every now and again to give him an update on Tony’s condition, and assure him that he was improving. Still, Rhodey was surprised, when sitting in the living area watching the news on the large TV one day, the door swung open and Tony slunk into the room, a small duffel bag in one hand, the other grasping a crutch tightly as he leant his weight on it. 

Tony pushed the door shut behind him, leant his head back against the door for a moment, took a deep breath and pushed away from it. He startled slightly when he saw Rhodey sat before the TV, head twisted at a sharp angle, mouth open in surprise. 

Tony decided to throw out a casual “hello,” before dropping his bag onto the counter and ambling over to the fridge. He opened it and held his head inside it for a moment, enjoying the cool air and buying himself a minute. Then he grabbed a drinks can and shook it in Rhodey’s direction. 

“Want one?” he asked.

Rhodey frowned as he turned the chair so he was facing the man across the room.

“Do you really think you should be drinking right now?” 

Tony looked confused for a moment before looking at the label on the can. It was a beer. Anger swelled up inside him. “I wasn’t-“ he broke off, biting his lip as his frustration rose. “I was just- “

“I really don’t think you should, man.”

“Stop it,” Tony snapped, “just stop it.”

Disappointment flashed over Rhodey’s face, and it made Tony’s stomach churn. For a second he thought about opening the can and downing the drink in one go, just because he could, but instead he squeezed it so hard in his fist, fragile fingers be damned, that the ring pull burst, liquid and froth fizzing out of the top. He slammed it down into the sink   
before slamming the fridge door shut too with as much strength as he could muster. 

“Tony, wait, this isn’t how I wanted to…” he trailed off as Tony adjusted his grip on the crutch, then turned and walked stiffly back down the corridor to his room, slamming that door behind him as well.

“That went well,” Rhodey whispered to himself, miserable.

*

Rhodey waited an hour, and decided he could wait no longer. He thought about knocking on his friend’s door, but didn’t want to give him a chance to prepare, to pull his defensive barriers back up. So he reached out and threw the door open suddenly, wondering what Tony would be doing. He was surprised to see him leaning against the large window, forehead resting against the glass, the hand beneath his fresh looking cast tapping an absent beat against the pane. 

“Hey,” Rhodey said, and Tony turned around tiredly. “I’m sorry, about before. You okay?”

Tony nodded, then settled down into the chair next to the window. “Sure,” he said carefully. “Are you?”

Rhodey smiled slightly. “I am now you’re back again, and I’m not spending all my time shouting at you through your hospital room door.”

Tony shrugged slightly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t really want an audience as I threw my guts up all day and night.”

Rhodey moved himself a little closer. “I understand. A little warning, or explanation, would have been nice. But… whatever man, you know I don’t mind.”

Tony nodded, not intending to apologise again.

“So, how are you feeling?” 

The tension in the room was awful, Rhodey didn’t know how to improve it.

“Okay.”

“I guess you’re still not taking anything other than your heart meds?”

Tony pursed his lips tightly, expecting an argument. “That’s right.”

“Well… how’s the pain?”

“Not… too bad. Much better, actually, than before.”

“That’s good. They released you earlier than I expected.”

“T’Challa swung it for me.”

“He’s back?”

“Yeah, we spoke yesterday.”

“What did you speak about?” Rhodey was both curious and angry, angry that he had been kept out of the loop, and curious as to what the King and Tony would chat about.

“It’s private,” Tony said bluntly, not wanting to tell Rhodey about their discussion over the Amendments. They both had different ideas, but the same goal, and T’Challa had agreed to throw his weight behind Tony’s suggested changes, when the outlaws were ready to go back, whenever that might be. 

“Okay,” Rhodey shrugged, trying not to take offence. 

“Great,” Tony slapped his hands together, “I think we’re done here?”

“Oh, no,” Rhodey shook his head. “You’re not getting off that lightly.”

“Huh?”

“We need to talk. And I mean a really big, long talk. I found out a lot after you were taken back in.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Such as?” he tried to sound flippant but didn’t really pull it off.

Rhodey reached down and pulled out Tony’s tablet from a pocket in his chair. Tony’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, then wearied slightly as he wondered just how much Rhodey knew. 

“So, we need to talk. About Friday. About the Amendments you’re drafting, for the Accords, which I found under your mattress, hidden with a transcript detailing your Raft interrogations. Or we could talk about the fact that you’ve been letting Fury push you around, and Natasha force you into seeing Steve. And then there’s the matter of you breaking through T’Challa’s security, stealing the Raft footage and decrypting it, which T’Challa’s best people still haven’t managed to do. Does he even know you have that yet? If that wasn’t enough, I then find out you’ve even watched some of it?” He kept his tone light. “It seems you’ve been very busy, for somebody who is supposed to be resting.”

Tony shrugged. “Seems like you know what I’ve been up to, so what is there to talk about?”

“How about the fact that you kept all of this to yourself, that you went through this alone?”

“I… I didn’t really, Nat helped.”

“Nat helped! What about me?” Rhodey winced as he realised how selfish the statement sounded. “Why go through that at all? What possible outcome could that have, other than to hurt you? And since when did you trust her?”

“I didn’t want to tell Natasha, I didn’t want to tell anyone. But it was hard and she was there… And I needed to know. I needed to know if I talked.”

Rhodey rubbed his hands together as he winced to himself. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked softly, voice laced with guilt.

“I didn’t want to add another burden to your load,” he answered honestly.

“You are not a burden,” Rhodey said fiercely.

“Sure,” Tony said. 

“I just wish… you didn’t have to go through all that… alone. You didn’t need any of that pressure. You should be focusing on getting better.”

“I am.”

“It doesn’t look like it. Don’t tell me all of this didn’t contribute to what happened last week.”

Tony threw his hands up. “That was an accident. That’s all! The pain… it was distracting me from doing what I needed to do. So I took the meds to keep it away. I didn’t keep track…” he shook his head and smiled slightly. “You know I’m not good at keeping track of things.”

“I know you’re not good at looking after yourself.”

“I am looking after myself, and stopping Ross, that’s the first step.”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“Are you going to let me help this time?”

“You need to stay out of this Rhodey. Right now, you’re a victim. You never broke the Accords, and you were still punished, you’re still innocent, it needs to stay that way.”

“Victim?” Rhodey hissed. “I am not a victim!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t care how you meant it. I’m caught up in this whether you like it or not. Ross needs to be stopped, and I’m going to do what I can to bring him in.”

“You can’t-“

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” Rhodey demanded darkly. “We’re in this together, understood?”

Tony looked out of the window for a moment before turning back to Rhodey, gaze softening slightly. “Fine.”

“You know this would have been a hell of a lot easier if you’d been up front with me before? And it would be a whole lot easier now if we bring the others in too. Whatever happened before, we’re all stuck in this mess together.”

Now Tony’s eyes darkened. “No. I don’t want to-“ he pressed a hand to his forehead. “Natasha maybe. Or Fury. But I can’t deal with the others right now. Let’s clean one mess up first, before we worry about another.”

“You sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a plan?”

Tony nodded. “Actually, I do. And I’m going to need Friday’s help to get it done.” He held his hand out for the tablet expectantly, trying to ignore the pull he felt in his chest as he stretched the limb.

Rhodey hesitated. “First, we agree some boundaries. One, you take regular rest breaks in between work. Two, you keep me completely in the loop, no running off trying to fix everything on your own like some kind of Lone Ranger. Three, if you’re in pain, you take the damn pain meds. Agreed?”

Tony’s hand twitched, still outstretched. “I can give you one and two at a push, you know where I stand on three. I’m not going down that road again.”

Rhodey hadn’t really expected him to agree to it, but he had to try. “Okay, fine.” He handed the tablet over. “But before you turn that on,” he warned. “We’re having lunch. You look like you’ve been starved.”

“Fine,” Tony said, rubbing his hands over the case nervously.

“In the canteen.”

“Why?” Tony grumbled. “Why does it matter where I eat, so long as I eat?”

“You need to get back into the land of the living. That means leaving our rooms. Mixing with other people. Even if its people you don’t want to see. It’s the only way you’re going to get over everything that happened.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous. And who are you, Dr Phil?”

“Yeah, that’s me, I’m ridiculous,” Rhodey said, turning his chair around. “Humour me. You can push my chair and then you don’t need the crutch.”

“Gee, thanks, I’m honoured,” Tony mumbled, climbing to his feet reluctantly, no longer feeling hungry.

*

It took just over ten minutes to reach the cafeteria, Tony was out of breath and sweating slightly, but his appetite reared its head as he smelt the food that was being served up. He was glad Rhodey had his back to him in his chair as they entered the room, Tony’s step faltered slightly as he looked around to see if anyone he recognised was in the area. He let out a deep breath as he checked the faces of the few people in the room, but didn’t recognise any. He pushed Rhodey over to a large table by the door, then sat down himself. 

“Just give me a minute,” he panted, then cursed and turned his head away quickly as Sam Wilson entered the room. He saw them, hesitated for a second, and then strode over, feigning confidence. He stopped a foot away before making eye contact with both Rhodey and Tony before nodding his head slightly.

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” Rhodey replied, then glanced at Tony who was studying some graffiti engraved into the table. 

“Glad to see you’re doing okay,” he said, guiltily glancing down at Rhodey’s legs. “I’m sorry.”

Rhodey nodded awkwardly. He didn’t blame Wilson for his accident, but he didn’t want to talk about it either.

“Thanks,” Rhodey said.

“I’d better get going,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “But it’s good to see you, both of you.”

Tony finally looked up, chewing on his lip as Sam turned to leave. “You too,” he said, voice stiff. Sam nodded and left, not getting any food, just leaving the room immediately.

“Wow,” Tony said, as soon as they were alone. “Awkward. Who suggested we eat here again? Great idea, Colonel,” he snapped.

“Drop it, Tony,” Rhodey said tiredly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, if you include the fact that he refused to sign the Accords and joined Cap in his travels chasing after his long lost bestie, yeah, I think he did.”

“You know what I mean,” Rhodey closed his eyes as he spoke, then opened them again as his stomach rumbled. “You have legs, you’re going to have to get the food in.”

Tony nodded. “No table service? All the more reason to get the legs working again. Do I need to pay? I don’t have any money here.”

Rhodey laughed. “A Stark without cash – now that’s an exclusive. No, you don’t need to pay. Will you be able to carry the tray”

“Yes," Tony snapped again, knowing it would be a struggle. "Well, what do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

*

They arrived back at their rooms an hour later, the walk back taking a lot longer than the way there. Both men were tired and the conversation dried out. Tony walked Rhodey into his room, tried not to wince at the different aids scattered throughout the room to help him in and out of bed, into the bathroom; he took it all in but didn’t comment on it.

“You need a hand with anything?” he asked, voice rough.

“No man, I’m good. I’ve got this down to a tee,” he said, and Tony couldn’t help but admire the man’s strength and positivity. 

“Night then,” Tony said, limping slightly as he turned to leave.

“You going to sleep?” Rhodey asked. “You look like you need the rest.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Promise me you’re not going to spend all night on your tablet working – just go to sleep and rest.”

Tony smiled slightly. “I promise.”

“You mean that?”

Tony nodded, then yawned, unable to hold it back. “That may have looked fake, but it was real, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“We’ll get to work tomorrow morning, first thing?”

“Sure.”

“After breakfast,” Rhodey added, a glint in his eye. 

Tony laughed slightly, nodding. “Fine. But we eat here.”

“I suppose that’s only fair.”

Tony made it back to his room and sat down on the bed heavily. He picked the tablet up, ran his hands over the screen, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind, different tasks prioritising themselves as he tried to catalogue them.

“No,” he whispered to himself, getting up and depositing it on the bedside table. 

“Tomorrow,” he said aloud, as though reaffirming his intention. “Tomorrow,” he muttered again.

He didn’t want to break his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this!
> 
> I am going on holiday in a few days where I will have no internet access, and so will not be able to update. I'm sorry for the delay! I was going to try and get another update out before I go, but I have so much to do, that I don't think it's going to be possible.
> 
> So I apologise in advance for the break over the next few weeks, but I will continue as soon as I return, so please keep reading!
> 
> And thank you for all of your comments, they really do make my day!
> 
> x


	30. Chapter 30

Tony ambled out of his bedroom in the morning, wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a serious case of bed head. He made it to the kitchen area and   
stopped in his tracks as he saw Rhodey seated at the table, dressed and shaved, ready to go.

“What time did you get up?”

“Earlier than you, clearly,” he said, then nodded to a glass of juice on the table. “That’s for you.”

Tony pulled a chair out and sat down. “Thanks,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and frowning. “I need a shower,” he said, then downed the juice in one.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You’re not…” Rhodey looked uncomfortable.

“Not what?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t up all night working?”

“No,” Tony replied, the word clipped.

“Are you… craving anything?”

Tony put the empty glass down on the counter. “Jesus Rhodey, seriously? I wasn’t taking the drugs because I was addicted to them, I was taking them because I needed them!”

“Do you need some now?”

“You need to drop this,” Tony snarled, breathing ragged. “I can’t be around you if you’re going to keep treating me like this.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine, okay. I’m sorry.”

Tony got back up from the table and turned to head back towards his room. 

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room!” he shouted. “To take a shower. Don’t believe me? Want to watch?” he hissed.

“No man, I’m, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he had gotten it wrong again. 

“Jesus,” Tony muttered to himself again, frustrated.

*

It took a while to get his cast wrapped and himself into the shower, but it was worth it. The hot water seemed to sooth his temper with his muscles, and then he turned the temperate right down and the cold water seemed to help clear his mind. He was shivering when he got out, and he quickly dressed in thick sweatpants before heading back into the bathroom to shave. He looked scruffy, but didn’t have the patience to start with his usual facial grooming routine so he decided to go fresh faced instead and shaved everything off. When he was done he threw on a white t-shirt, unable to stop himself from grunting as the material brushed painfully against his ear as he pulled it over his head. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, pressing his hand gently against the sore skin. 

He threw on socks and some pumps, then grabbed the tablet and his crutch, not wanting to use it, but needing to, and headed back into the kitchen area. He was more than a little surprised to see Rhodey had left, a hastily scribbled note left on the counter, stating that he had gone for physio and would be back later. Tony crumbled it up before settling down at the kitchen table, turning the tablet on. He entered his authorisation codes and waited for Friday to load. His stomach rumbled and he made himself a slice of toast, nibbling on it slowly as Friday finally lit up the screen.

“Boss,” she greeted. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

Tony laughed. “Never.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Tony opened up the reports Friday had been collating in his absence and started to scan them. “Friday,” he mumbled around a mouthful of toast. “I need to get Ross’ email address. I’d prefer a private one, over his official one, if possible. It needs to be in use.”

“On it Boss.”

He carried on reading the reports, only looking up from the screen when the door opened and Rhodey rolled into the room, dripping with sweat and looking exhausted.

“Hey,” he said, still looking guilty. Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Hey,” he returned, glancing back at the screen.

“You look better,” he noted as he moved over to the kitchen table. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, getting up and pulling a chair out of the way so Rhodey could take a seat. “Now it’s you who looks like shit.”

“Looks, and feels, like shit,” Rhodey corrected.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “PT sounds tough.”

“Yeah, well, it is but it’s worth it.”

Friday’s voice filtered through the device. “Boss, I have the address.”

“Uh, thanks, Fri. Look,” he said, turning his attention back to Rhodey. “I’ve got some really great ideas, for your legs. I’m going to start the specs later today.”

“Great,” Rhodey said, not looking too enthusiastic. “What address?”

Tony sighed, but answered truthfully. “I’ve got an email address for Ross. Is it active?” he asked Friday.

“Yes, he responded to two messages sent to the address this morning, both were of a personal nature.”

“His email address? No offence Tony but I kind of hoped we were going to find him and launch some kind of attack. What are you going to do, spam him?”

Tony shook his head. “I’m going to contact him. Show him we have evidence of what he did, give him the chance to come clean, hand himself in and drop the charges against everyone.”

Rhodey thought about it for a minute. “Okay, but do you think he’ll go for it?”

“I don’t know, but I’d rather try a more… peaceful option, first.”

“How are you going to show him that you have evidence?”

Tony looked away for a second. “Friday, I want one of the video clips, from the Raft. One where Ross was directly involved.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was uncertain. “Maybe when he went crazy with the baton?”

Rhodey looked at him confused.

“Got it boss.”

“Duration?”

“Three minutes and 15 seconds.”

Tony looked at Rhodey as he ordered, “play it.”

Rhodey leant forwards to get a better view of the screen. They watched in silence as the video cut to Tony on screen, looking worse for wear and already beaten up, being handed a Taser, shakily getting up from the chair he had just been released from. Tony looked away as Ross challenged Tony on screen. "Let’s see how strong you are without the suit.” Rhodey knew those words would cut deep, they’d been thrown up at him more than once. 

They watched as Tony sprung forwards with the Taser, but Ross attacked his arm with the baton, and the weapon was sent skidding across the floor. They watched as Ross attacked again, knocking Tony back to the floor, mocking him, taunting him about his father as Tony struggled to get back to his feet. Rhodey felt his face colour as he watched Tony finally snap and lash out at Ross, but he was too slow, and Ross attacked again, bringing the baton down against the mans head, knocking him to the floor, unconscious. Friday slowly faded the screen to black as the blood pooling from the wound in Tony’s head began to spread out across the concrete floor.

“Jesus,” Rhodey whispered, feeling sick. “He really is insane.”

“I think this video sends the right message,” Tony said, trying to distance himself from the memory of the incident. He wanted to reach up and touch the thick pink scar in his   
hairline, but he didn’t let himself do it, refusing to budge his hands. 

“Yeah,” Rhodey said. “I’ll say.”

“Friday,” Tony ordered. “Send the file to Ross. Add a message for me, will you?”

“Sure boss.”

“We need to talk,” Tony dictated. He thought about what else to say, but Rhodey cut in.

“That’s all you need to say. It sounds almost threatening without being explicit.”

Tony smirked. “It was supposed to be a threat.”

Rhodey patted him on the arm. “I know.”

“Friday, send it now, make sure it can’t be traced, but that any response comes back to you.”

“Done,” Friday said, seconds later.

“Thank you. Let me know when we get a response.”

“Will do.”

Tony switched the tablet off, and reached for his crutch as he got up from the table. “I’m gonna go take a walk,” he said, “I’ll start on the specs later.”

“Since when do you ever take a walk?” Rhodey was suspicious. 

“Got to keep moving if I’m going to get stronger,” Tony admitted.

“Well, give me time to shower and I’ll come with you.”

“No, thanks, but I’d rather go alone.”

Rhodey tried not to look hurt. “Okay man, just don’t push yourself too much.”

He watched Tony go, walking slowly, but it didn’t look like the crutch was taking too much of his weight, so that had to be a good thing.

*

Tony got outside into the grounds, and started walking, not sure where he was going. Fifteen minutes in and he saw a bench in the distance, he realised it was the one Natasha had taken him to when he was still in the hospital, so he headed towards it. It took a while, his legs were stiff and his arm ached from leaning his weight onto the crutch, but he couldn’t deny he needed the aid. He sat down heavily onto the wooden seat and leant his head between his legs for a moment, wheezing for breath.

He sat back up straight after catching his breath, and stared out into the distance, the view was beautiful. Wakanda truly was an amazing place, and it was a testament to T’Challa and his father that they had managed to keep something so rich so well hidden from outsiders. The breeze in the air seemed to pick up, buffeting his t-shirt against him, and so Tony decided it was time to head back. He got to his feet stiffly, grabbed the crutch and then jumped back as he turned around and saw somebody stood over him.

“Shit,” he yelled, staggering backwards for a moment, almost losing his grip on his crutch. “What the hell are you doing, creeping up on me like that?” he snapped angrily. 

Steve held his hands up as he stepped backwards, away from Tony. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to – I was just, I saw you, I was jogging,” he explained, “it didn’t look like you were moving, I just wanted to check that you – that you were okay. I’m sorry,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

Tony sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bench. “It’s fine, you just… surprised me,” he said quietly. 

“Can I join you?”

Tony motioned to the free space on the bench. “Sure, help yourself,” he said, not too friendly.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Steve said, sitting down on the other end of the seat, leaving a large space between them. “I know I… I hurt you. I’m just… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, for everything that happened.”

Tony stared ahead, not knowing what to say. Eventually, he settled for, “me too.” He turned and saw the confusion on Steve’s face, so he continued, “I didn’t meant to, I mean, I wasn’t thinking clearly before. I shouldn’t have gone after Barnes the way I did.”

Steve relaxed slightly. “I can understand why you did, you were angry.”

“I was angry with you,” Tony said bluntly, a harsher edge to his words than before. “I still am. You lied to me, for a long time.”

“I…” Steve swallowed hard, but nodded. “I did. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Tony shook his head. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me, about my parents? I thought you and my father were friends?”

“We were. Good friends.”

“Not good enough,” Tony said bitterly. 

“I guess not. Bucky… he’s all I have, Tony. From before. I guess… I wasn’t thinking clearly, either.”

Tony just nodded. 

“And I’m sorry about leaving you in the Raft. I hope you believe me when I say that had we known you were there, we would never have left you.”

Tony stared at him, trying to read him. He knew the words were sincere, but it still hurt. “Thanks,” he said eventually.

“For what?” Steve asked. 

“For finding me, before. Rhodey said that if you hadn’t, I’d probably be dead now.”

“I’m glad I did,” he said, looking down at his shoes.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Me too.” He struggled back to his feet again. “I need to get back,” he said, awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “I… I really am sorry, Tony. I hope we can work things out properly…”

“Look,” Tony said, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second. “I don’t want to do this now, okay? I can’t think about any of this right now.”

“Sure,” Steve said, moving away. “I understand.”

Tony didn’t know why guilt was suddenly mixing with the anger and bitterness he was feeling. “I’m not trying to be difficult here,” he said, suddenly feeling the need to explain   
himself. “I just can’t… can’t do this. Not right now.”

Steve nodded, smiling softly. “I get it Tony, its fine. It’s good to see you doing better.” He turned and jogged away, and Tony watched him, suddenly feeling even more empty than   
before, without knowing why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I managed to find the time to squeeze a little update in before I go!
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! I didn't get many comments for the last chapter, so I hope that wasn't because people are losing interest in this!
> 
> I'm leaving for my holiday tonight so it would be great to get some more comments before I go!
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone, and I'll be back in a couple of weeks! x


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! *waves*
> 
> Thanks for your lovely comments! I've been a bit stuck for time, especially with being away, but I am hoping to get this finished over the next few weeks!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please, please, leave me your comments!
> 
> x

Tony headed back towards his room, retracing his steps, leaning his weight on the crutch as he made slow progress, chuntering to himself under his breath the whole way. His meeting with Rogers had thrown him. Seeing Steve’s obvious guilt made him feel better, slightly, but he was still so angry with the man. For lying to him about his parent’s death, he still couldn’t get his head around that. How the man could lie to him, to his face, to protect his friend. It still hurt, though Tony would never admit it out loud, but it did hurt, how easily Steve had been able to dismiss their friendship. Just like he’d dismissed the Accords, without even reading them, without even trying to understand what Tony was trying to do, what he was trying to achieve. 

When he arrived back to their room, Rhodey wasn’t around, and Tony was relieved, ready for some time alone. He made it back to his room before collapsing into the chair by the window exhausted, letting the crutch clatter to the floor. 

“Jesus,” he said, pulling the material of his t-shirt away from his chest, it was damp with sweat. He reached over and grabbed his tablet, turning it on and quickly logging into Friday.

“Evening Boss.”

“Hey,” he said, now rubbing at the sweat on the back of his neck. “Anything back from Ross?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm,” Tony said, thinking to himself. He’d expected an immediate response. “Keep monitoring it.”

“Yes Boss.”

“Now, I need you to set up a new project file. ‘Operation Legs.’ Is that rude, to call it that? It’s the design for Rhodey?”

“I think he wouldn’t mind the project name if it enables him to walk again.” Tony thought he could hear amusement in his AI’s voice, and it brought a hint of a smile to his own lips.

“Okay, ‘Operation Legs’ it is, but maybe we don’t let Rhodey know that. I’ve got a lot of specs already in my head, so I’ll dictate first, then we can look at the design in more detail.”

“Got it.”

Tony sat back in the chair, eyes closing as he related everything he had already considered aloud to Friday. He started to talk with his hands as he got more animated, waving his two limbs around in the air as he dictated details and instructions to Friday, all thoughts of Ross and Rogers pushed from his mind, finally.

*

The next morning Tony lay in bed reviewing the designs Friday had drawn up on his behalf, he made a few more tweaks and then ordered her to send them over to T’Challa’s design team. He thanked her for her help before getting up and heading out to the living area, ready for some human contact. He smiled as he saw Rhodey sat by the coffee table, head bent as he scribbled something into a notebook.

Although he knew Rhodey had heard his approach due to his shuffling gait, he still crept up behind his friend and rubbed his hand over the man’s head.

“Really?” Rhodey smirked, closing his notebook. “Seriously, did you just do that?”

“I sure did, Buttercup,” Tony said grinning as he took a seat on the couch opposite him.

“What’s got you so cheerful?” Rhodey asked, glad to see his spirits seemingly lifted. 

“Your face always brings a smile to my face,” he joked as he leaned back into the cushions. Rhodey shifted in the chair, dropping his notebook into the arm pocket.

“Oh, yeah, and prepare to say goodbye to that chair,” Tony continued.

“What?”

“I just sent my first draft of the leg braces over to T’Challa’s design team, they should have a prototype drawn up by tomorrow.”

This time it was Rhodey’s turn to grin. 

“They’re just a draft, so we’re going to have to test them, and I’ll need as much feedback as possible so we can improve them.”

Rhodey reached over and grasped Tony’s wrist in his hand tightly. “Seriously, thank you,” he said, his stare so intense Tony had to look away.

“You’re welcome,” he said, banishing away the voice that was suddenly whispering in his ear, reminding him that Rhodey was thanking the man who had had paralysed him. He shook his head slightly as he forced the voice away, not wanting to ruin the mood.

“Oh, damn, here,” Rhodey said, scrambling in his pocket. “I should have given you this days ago.”

Tony looked on intrigued as Rhodey pulled out a much folded note of paper.

“What’s that?”

Rhodey dropped it onto his lap and Tony stared at it. 

“Clint wrote you, before they let him out. He asked me to pass it on to you, and I just forgot.”

Tony continued to stare at it.

“I haven’t read it,” Rhodey said, watching Tony stare at the papers resting over his thigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want it,” Tony said, voice suddenly wary. “I don’t want it.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to hand it to you,” Rhodey said, confused. “What’s the problem?”

Tony stood up suddenly, the paper drifting to the floor. He stepped over it carefully. “I haven’t read it,” he said, suddenly looking around the room.

“Tony,” Rhodey said carefully, voice steady and soft, he was suddenly worried. “What is it?”

He reached a hand out again, grabbed his wrist as he had earlier, but this time Tony wrenched free from Rhodey’s grip almost violently.

“Get off me!” he snapped.

“What the hell?”

Tony looked around the room again, and Rhodey noticed the way his hands were suddenly trembling. “Tony, talk to me, please?”

Tony looked at Rhodey, almost embarrassed, before shaking his head and running from the room awkwardly, limping without the crutch. 

“Tony, wait!” Rhodey called after him, trying to turn his chair around to follow.

But Tony was gone, the door still wide open behind him.

*

Tony left the compound, running, and then hobbling as he got out of breath and his feet started to sting. He ignored it, found a paved footpath and followed it, having no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to keep moving. And move he did, walking with a grim determination, one hand pressed against his aching side, the other held out in the air as he fought to keep his balance with each lumbering step he took. 

He passed the cafeteria and kept going, up ahead he saw the medical centre, and he planned to aim for that, and when he got there, once again, keep going. He was tiring quickly, he knew, but that only seemed to push him into moving faster, not looking back, he just needed to get away. He reached the medical centre and moved to the back of the building.  
He slowed to a step and leant against the cold stone wall as he fought to catch his breath, his chest heaving from the effort. He bent over, hands resting on his knees, and then gave in and slid down the wall and onto the grass floor. The roughness of the stone wall scratched at his back as he slid down it, but he didn’t care, he was exhausted.  
He closed his eyes as he continued to gasp for breath, then ran a hand over his forehead, it was dripping wet with sweat. He shrugged, let his hand fall back to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut as he slowly got his breath back. Once he was breathing more normally, he noticed the smell of cigarette smoke and opened his eyes, a frown on his face. 

“Hello.”

“Shit,” Tony muttered, bringing his knees up to his chest. “And how long have you been here?”

“I was here first,” Fury said, pointing his lit cigarette in Tony’s direction. “You are the one crashing my party.”

“Yeah well,” Tony said, looking away, “I’ll be on my way, in a minute.” But he made no move to get up from his spot on the floor, his legs still felt like jelly from his impromptu run.

“I don’t mind company,” Fury said after taking a deep pull on the smoke. “Just didn’t want anyone getting on at me for this,” he explained.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since I got a lot of stress in my life,” Fury drawled. “Since when do you go running barefoot in your nightwear?”

Tony looked down at himself, mouth opening slightly as he realised he was still in his boxer shorts and the t-shirt he had slept in. “I wasn’t running,” he said, ignoring the jibe about his clothing. “I just… went for a walk.”

“Sure,” Fury nodded, “and I’m on my way to confession, as soon as I finish this.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile for a moment at the look of mischief on the man’s face. 

“You going to tell me why you’re out here running, Forest?”

Tony shook his head as he climbed back to his feet. Fury threw the rest of his cigarette onto the floor and twisted his heel over it.

“Okay, well, are you going to come with me back inside the medical centre?”

Tony looked confused for a moment. “Why?”

“I think you must have busted those stiches in your feet,” Fury nodded at the trail of small blood splatters he was leaving behind him.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, “just from the running.”

“Well humour me, were here anyway, let the nurse take a look.”

Tony nodded, but ignored the man’s outstretched arm and gave it a wide berth instead, limping around the building towards the entrance. Fury followed closely behind him. 

“Do me a favour, Tony,” he said warmly, “next time you go out for a walk, put some shoes on.”

Tony nodded again, refusing to give the man the explanation he wanted.

*

Rhodey didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was wrong with Tony, but something clearly was wrong, very wrong. He picked Clint’s letter up off of the floor and unfolded it, he hadn’t read it in the days it had been in his possession, but he needed to now, it might hold an answer to Tony’s strange behaviour.

_Tony,_

_I’m sorry, for being a dick, I’ve been such a huge asshole._

_I don’t know how we even got to this place, this point – things clearly escalated for all of us._

_When Cap called me up, it felt good to be needed again, it felt so good, and I just ran with it, I guess._

_You were right, I left my family, I put them in danger, and I should have thought about that, but I didn’t. I was just too eager to get back into the field._

_Leaving you after you were shot – that was unforgivable. I was terrified something had happened to Laura, or the kids, so when you mentioned the farm, I just panicked._

_I’m sorry – it’s not good enough, but it’s all I have._

_Maybe I can make it up to you someday._

_Again – I’m sorry._

_Clint._

Rhodey read the letter, if it could be called that, through twice more, then screwed it up into a ball and threw it into the trash. Minutes later he got it back out again, it wasn’t his place to destroy it, he just couldn’t understand what had spooked Tony so badly.

He checked in Tony’s room to see if it held any clue, but everything seemed in order. His tablet was laid on his bedside table, Rhodey picked it up and turned it on. He knew Friday was installed on it, but he wasn’t sure how to access her. 

“Friday?” he tried, feeling stupid. “Are you there?”

Silence. 

“Look,” he tried again, “Tony’s in trouble, I think – so if you’re there…”

“Good afternoon Colonel.”

Rhodey let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank God. Look, something’s wrong with Tony, but I don’t know what. What was he working on, before? Can you tell me?”

“Sir was working on new braces to aid you in walking.”

The fact that Tony hadn’t programmed her to not tell anyone what he was working on was a flag in itself, it wasn’t like him to be so careless.

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

Rhodey leant his head against the mattress of Tony’s bed as he thought hard. He lifted his head back up slowly. 

“I gave him this letter, earlier, from Clint. He completely freaked. Does that make any sense to you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Friday said, but Rhodey detected some hesitation in her voice.

“Friday, this is important, he’s not well, he’s taken off, and I don’t know why.”

“There is some footage on my servers, from his time in the Raft, which may relate.”

“What, how?”

“Preparing video file.”

A minute later a video started to play footage from the Raft. Rhodey watched in silence, a frown on his face, as Ross presented Tony with the letter from Steve. He watched as Ross told Tony they would have freed him, had it not been for the letter, and phone. Tony claimed he hadn’t received the parcel, but Ross didn’t care, as far as they were concerned, the letter and phone from Steve were proof that Tony was working with the outlawed Avengers. 

“This is ridiculous,” Rhodey whispered, as he watched on.

He winced as two soldiers entered the room and proceeded to beat his friend unconscious, Rhodey pushed the tablet away as the video ended.

“That’s when it started,” Rhodey said, feeling sick. “The pain.”

“Yes,” Friday confirmed.

“Makes sense,” Rhodey muttered. “I guess. They saw Steve had wrote him, then started hurting him. Now Clint’s written him an apology, of sorts,” he added angrily, “it freaked him out. I can understand that. Although that was obviously just an excuse, Ross was going to hurt him anyway, Tony must know that.”

Rhodey shook his head again. “Thanks Friday, I’m going to shut this down now.”

“Is the Boss alright?”

Rhodey shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so.”

*


	32. Chapter 32

Rhodey was surprised, if not relieved when Tony was delivered home by Fury later. He dropped the notes he was working on onto the table, head jerking up in surprise as the door opened. 

“Tony, hey,” he said, then his voice trailed off as Fury pushed his wheelchair in through the door. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, waving a hand through the air as though pushing away Rhodey’s concern.

“Sure, nothing.” Fury deposited him over by the table then took a seat himself.

“See, I don’t remember anyone offering you a seat?” Rhodey snapped, still angry at Fury from before.

“Its fine Rhodes, leave him be.”

Fury glared at Rhodey but said nothing.

“What happened to you?” Rhodey ignored Fury’s presence. “You freaked out on me over Clint’s letter, then you were gone for,” he looked at his watch. “Almost six hours! Then you   
come back in a wheelchair, with your feet all wrapped up again. What happened?”

“Look, I’m fine,” Tony muttered drowsily. “I just… needed some air.”

“You needed six hours of air?”

“No, I just needed a break.”

“What happened to your feet?”

Tony shrugged. “Busted the stitches. It’ll be fine.”

“We need to talk, Tony.” He threw another suspicious glance at Fury. “Later.”

Tony sighed, rubbed at his eyebrow and nodded. “Fine, fine.”

“What happened to your arm?”

Tony glanced down at his arm, now free of the cast it had been held in since his release from the Raft. He gave the limb a sight wiggle. “They gave me a check-up while I was in there getting my feet fixed. Bones healed, so they removed it.”

“Well, that's good then. Looks like you are on the mend!"

Tony nodded, chewing his lip.

“Some guy came over earlier, said the leg braces had arrived.”

“What?” Tony instantly perked up. “Well where are they?”

“They put them in some room in the gym, two floors down. It has a lot of rehab equipment in it already, so the porters left it there. I thought we could go over and take a look, tomorrow, if you’re up for it?”

Tony nodded. “At this rate you’ll be out of the chair before me.”

Rhodey grinned. “That’s fine by me.”

“Great. Look, I’m really tired,” he said, then yawned slightly. “I’m gonna go,” he trailed off before trying to manoeuvre himself away from the table, but he bashed his knee against a chair leg. “Damn it,” he snapped.

“Here, let me help.” Tony’s face soured slightly but he didn’t argue, and let Fury push him towards his room.

“How much longer do I have to stay in this thing?”

“A week, they said. Until the stitches come out this time.”

“Hmmm. Night Rhodey,” he called over his shoulder. Rhodey watched the two go, then waited for Fury’s return.

*

“So, what happened?”

Fury looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“What happened, how did you end up bringing him back here?”

“I found him,” Fury tried to lower his voice. “He was running around the place in his underwear like some spooked horse. I got him to go to medical and get his feet looked at. He seemed… out of sorts.”

Rhodey sighed. “I’ll say. He freaked out and took off. I couldn’t really go after him.” He motioned down to his chair. 

“Well, looks like you won’t be stuck in that much longer.”

Rhodey smiled slightly. “Right. Well, did he say anything? He seemed to be doing better, then this morning, he just…”

Fury laughed. “You think he’s doing better? On the outside, maybe. Come on, you know Tony well, so you should know better than that.”

“He seemed more positive, working on the leg braces.”

“The braces are a distraction,” Fury stated, like it was obvious. “And after what he went through, before the Raft, as well as in it. He needs a distraction.”

“He just… he really did seem better.”

“He’s going to have ups and downs, Rhodey, lots of them. We’ve just got to try and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself when he loses it.”

“You think he would intentionally try to hurt himself?” Rhodey snapped. “That was an accident, before. You know that!”

Fury sighed again, losing patience. “Yes, I know that. I’m talking about today, running around like an idiot, cutting his feet to shreds. We need to keep an eye on him, all of us.”

“You sure you don’t have any more ‘jobs’ lined up for him while you’re keeping your eye on him?”

Fury shook his head, eyes darkening. “Don’t.”

“Whatever,” Rhodey said. “Thanks for bringing him back. I’ll take better care of him.”

“It’s not just on you, we all have a part to play.”

Rhodey laughed. “Well, given that Tony doesn’t trust most of the people here, and half of them left him in the Raft to be tortured, I’d rather keep the circle as small as possible.”

Fury got up to leave. “I’ll stop by, tomorrow, see how he’s doing. He’ll probably be out for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“The pain killers, I assume he’ll sleep well.”

“Pain killers?”

“Yeah,” Fury said, enjoying this. “Didn’t I say? I persuaded him to let the nurses give him something, for the pain, when they were stitching his feet up.”

“He agreed to that? He hasn’t taken anything since…. Before.”

Fury nodded. “As I said, I’ll stop by tomorrow to check on him. Good luck with the braces.”

Rhodey watched him leave, not sure what to make of that.

* 

Tony leant forward in his seat, watching Rhodey’s leg movements with a critical eye, searching for any areas of weakness, anything at all that could be improved. Rhodey was calling   
out suggestions and preferences as he thought of them, Tony’s tablet was propped up on an empty chair, Friday recording anything of use for the second draft of the braces. Tony watched as Rhodey, feeling more confident, let go of the parallel bars and strode forward, he made it three steps before he collapsed onto his knees. Tony started to get up from his chair to help him, but Rhodey told him to stay put, he would get up on his own.

“After I take a breather,” he said, then laughed, still on his knees, one arm braced against his ribs as his body shook from the action. 

“You okay?” Tony asked, both amused and slightly concerned. 

“I am way better than okay. Way better, oh man,” he started to laugh again. “This is incredible.”

“Well, keep the feedback coming, we can still improve it.”

Rhodey slowly climbed back to his feet, grabbing onto the bars to help himself up, then he slowly lumbered over to his chair, parked next to Tony. He was huffing for breath, sweating heavily, and looked ecstatic. 

“You could change a lot of lives with these man,” he said, clasping Tony on the shoulder. “A lot of lives.”

Tony nodded his head. “I know,” he said quietly.

Tony looked away as Rhodey discreetly swiped at a tear that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Look, we should probably get back…” he said, consulting his watch, suddenly feeling awkward.

“I’m gonna have another go at these,” Rhodey said, more composed. “Don’t really want to take them off just yet. You go ahead though, don’t let me stop you.”

Tony nodded, sensing the man wanted to be alone. He slowly worked his way towards the door in his chair. Pulling the door open and pushing his way out was difficult, living in a chair was difficult. He’d been back in it a day and he was already frustrated. He couldn’t help but think about the braces more, how to tweak them, to improve them. Could they be mass produced? 

He was deep in thought when a figure strolled out into the walkway, nearly barrelling into him. “Jesus,” Clint yelled, jumping out of the way at the last minute. Tony looked up, startled and uncertain, mind suddenly whirring at the sight of Clint. He took a deep breath, determined not to let his discomfort show. 

“Barton,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. 

“Hey, Tony,” the other man said, looking down at him. “What happened to you?”

Tony smirked slightly, keeping a lid on his anger. “Uh, a lot, actually.”

“Shit, no, I didn’t meant it like that. I just – why are you in that?” he motioned to the wheelchair.

“It’s only temporary, got stitches in my feet.”

“Oh, right. Well, how are you doing?”

“I’m – fine. And you?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Great. Look, I really need to-“

“Can we talk?” Clint asked, suddenly looking nervous.

“I thought that’s what we were doing?”

“No, it isn’t, and you know that. Can we have a real talk? Please? I have a lot of explaining to do, and I’d rather do it to your face, that stupid letter I wrote-“  
He saw Tony tense up at the mention of his letter. “What’s wrong? I know it was stupid…”

“I didn’t read it,” Tony answered honestly. “I uh… misplaced it.”

“Well, okay. Good, I guess. You want to come over to mine, we can have a drink, and a real-“

“I don’t drink. I mean, not like before – I, I was cutting back, before. Don’t think starting again would help, right now.” He looked down at his knees as he spoke.

“Okay, that’s good, I guess. Me too, actually.” Tony looked up at him surprised. “It got a little out of hand for me, after we came back here. I meant… coffee?”

“Okay,” Tony said, slightly more timid than he intended. “Sure.”

“You want me to push that thing?”

“I got it,” Tony said. He didn’t, really, movement was slow going and hard work, but he would push himself. Progress was slow, it was over twenty minutes later before they got to   
Clint’s apartment. Neither man spoke during the journey, but it wasn’t awkward, both men deep in thought. Tony thought about what he wanted to say to the man. He was so angry with him for getting involved at all, for siding against him with no real reason, and then being so bitter about it. But then as strong as the anger was, he also felt terrible shame that he had given Ross information on his family and their whereabouts. He could never take that back.

In Clint’s room, Tony stepped out of the chair gingerly, trying not to wince as he put his weight onto his still bandaged feet. He took light steps over to the couch, then nodded in what he hoped was a grateful action as he took the coffee from Clint. Only as he took a sip did he realise it was the first time in months that he’d had coffee. He smiled   
slightly as he breathed it in, the power of the little things, he thought to himself.

Clint smiled as he sat down with his own. “Good huh?” he said, sensing Tony’s satisfaction. 

“Yeah, good coffee,” he said before taking another sip.

“Everything in this place is top notch,” Clint said, filling the silence. “It’s like being back at the Tower.”

Clint knew it was the wrong thing to say, felt the mood sour instantly. “Look,” he said, “I can’t pussyfoot around you, I’m just going to be straight. I’m sorry. I fucked up, big time. Ultimate fuck up, and I’m sorry.”

Tony looked at him warily. “You don’t need to apologise,” he said quietly. “Really.”

“I do, Tony. I really do. Do you even know what I’m apologising for?”

Tony took another sip, delaying his response. “Leaving everyone in the Raft?”

“No,” Clint sighed, "For leaving you in the Raft. I should not have done that. That was,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Bad. So bad. And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Clint, really. And it’s not like it was just me, I wasn’t on my own, there were others-“

“You were the only one who was actively dying, Tony.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, well, luckily I don’t remember much of that.”

“I just… I just panicked. I was already strung out. When you told me about the farm, I just panicked.”

Tony nodded, wincing slightly again. Clint held a hand out. “I didn’t mean anything about that, honestly, I didn’t. I just… I panicked. I thought… Tony, the state of you. I thought – if they wanted information from you, about my family. I assumed you had told them.”

Tony swallowed hard, cheeks reddening in shame. 

“I don’t mean that as an insult, Tony. I don’t think you’re weak, or that you gave in. I just mean – they tortured you, for weeks. They had Rhodey. You were dying. I assumed you had told them what they wanted to know, because I assumed that in that position, I would have done the same.”

Tony looked away, taking another sip. It burnt at his throat, providing a welcome distraction. 

“But you didn’t, Nat told me you watched the footage, to be sure you didn’t. I don’t know how you could even stomach that. But Tony, you didn’t tell them anything, and I left you…   
I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, how thankful I am that you were able to hold out. And how ashamed I am that I still left you anyway.”

“Stop it,” Tony whispered. “Just, don’t… I didn’t… I told him – I – I told him about the farm.”

Clint nodded calmly. “I know. Do you remember what you told them?”

“I told them your wife and children are living on a farm. Jesus- I may as well have drawn them a map!”

“I know you have a tendency to be dramatic, but I think this is overkill, even by your standards. Do you know how many farms there are in the US, Tony? And my property isn’t even   
listed as a farm. It’s well hidden, even if you had named the State, I doubt they would have found it.”

“That’s a risk you shouldn’t have to take.”

“No, and that’s on Ross. When we get to him… well, I’d say I want to be first in line to kick his ass, but I’m guessing it’s only fair I go second, behind you.”

Tony shook his head slightly. “We can’t kill him, we need him. He’s proof that everyone here is innocent. Or at least not as guilty as he is currently claiming."

Clint shrugged. “Fine, we need him alive, an arrow in the ass then?”

Tony smiled this time, then nodded. 

“Do you have a plan to stop him?”

Tony nodded. “Kind of.”

“A half plan? Those are my favourite.”

Tony laughed again. 

“If you need any help, anything at all, let me know.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it covered.”

“Somehow I thought you’d say that.”

Tony got up, took a few tentative steps to the side and dropped his empty cup onto the table. He sat back down in the chair, making it clear he’d be leaving soon. Clint watched him wearily.

“Man,” he said, sounding sorry. “They really did a number on you. I don’t think one arrow is enough.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony said, more conviction in his voice, he was trying to convince himself too. “What’s that?” Tony asked, motioning to the paperwork he’d seen on the counter where he had left his mug.

Now it was Clint’s turn to look sheepish. “It’s a copy of the Accords. Given it’s what got me into this mess, thought it would be wise to actually read the damn thing.”

Tony nodded. “Not that it matters right now, maybe not for a long time, but I’m working on the Amendments. We always planned heavy changes to the Accords once they were approved. If you have any comments you would like to submit…”

“I’m making notes as I go. Steve gave me the copy,” he admitted. “Gave us all one. Said we need to try and agree a version we can all be happy with, when we go back, if we go back, after Ross is stopped.”

Tony was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. We’re a team, aren’t we? So we need to be working from the same script.”

“Sure,” Tony said unconvincingly. “Look, I need to get back.”

“Sure. Do you want a hand, with the chair, I mean?”

Tony looked up at Clint, smiling down at him hopefully. “Sure,” Tony said again, “That would be helpful.”

They walked back the Tony’s room in silence, both men feeling better. Clint left Tony outside his room. 

“Are we okay?” Clint asked, before leaving.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. My offer still stands. You need anything, let me know.” He held his hand out, and was pleased when Tony shook it.

“Thanks.”

*

“Where have you been?” Rhodey asked when Tony came back inside. 

Tony smiled slightly before looking up at Rhodey, stood up by the sink, hands on his hips. He couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re never taking those off, are you?”

Rhodey grinned. “Never. They’re amazing.”

“Good.”

“So, where have you been? I’m not prying, I was just worried.”

“I bumped into Clint. We talked.”

“Oh yeah,” Rhodey frowned. “What did he have to say?”

“Leave him be, Rhodey. He apologised, and I accepted his apology. We spoke about what happened… and his family… I feel for better clearing the air with him, actually.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Rhodey was still clearly not happy that Clint had been so easily forgiven. He passed a jiffy bag over to Tony. “This came today, while we were out. Posted   
from Japan, it looks… suspicious.”

Tony looked down at the envelope, addressed to “Tony Stark, Wakanda.”

“This actually got here?”

“Yeah, suspicious or what? Have you heard anything back from Ross yet?”

Tony shook his head as he opened the package. “Nothing, which in itself is suspicious.”

He opened the package, peered inside it, then gasped.

“What is it?”

Tony stared into the package now wavering in his hands.

“Tony, what is it?”

Tony didn’t reply, he dropped the package onto the floor then promptly threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly late with this update, sorry! Real life is so busy right now! But I'm going to try and get another update ready for Sunday.  
> Hope you enjoyed the convo with Clint, though I fear some of you may feel he has gotten off too easy!  
> All I can say is - the end is in sight!  
> As always, THANK YOU so much for reading, bookmarking, leaving kudos and most of all leaving your comments. I can't tell you how much I love reading comments, or how much they encourage me to keep writing!  
> Thanks :) x


	33. Chapter 33

“Tony? Tony!” Rhodey rushed over as quickly as he could, and Tony leant forwards and threw up again. 

“What – what’s wrong?” he asked. He reached down for the parcel, but Tony snatched it away from his hands, holding it tightly against his now vomit stained lap. 

“Don’t,” he warned, taking in juddering breaths. 

“Tony, what’s going on?”

Tony stared down at the parcel, his fist clenched impossibly tight over it. He shook his head, refusing to speak. 

Rhodey reached out a hand and gently placed it on Tony’s shoulder, but he jerked away from the touch, flinching too, and Rhodey stepped backwards. “Okay, it’s okay,” he said calmly. 

Tony was now staring over at the fridge, although Rhodey wasn’t sure he really seeing it, his eyes set in a deep frown as he started to grind his teeth.

“Tony, are you okay?” Rhodey asked softly, but the man gave no notion of hearing him. 

“You remember where we are,” he asked, unsure if his friend could hear him. “In Wakanda? With T’Challa.”

Tony continued to stare, his breathing now ragged. Rhodey took another step back, wondering what to do. 

“We were just testing the leg braces that you made me, earlier. Do you remember?”

“No,” Tony whispered, now shaking his head slightly. Specs of vomit clung to his chin. “No,” he repeated, and Rhodey was starting to really worry. In his panic, he strode back over and wrestled the parcel from Tony’s grip, needing to know what had set this off. The man fought back, but Rhodey managed to pull it from him, the brief tug of war sending Rhodey sprawling backwards onto the floor with a crash, but it seemed to shake Tony out of his haze.

Tony looked surprised, chest still heaving as he took in Rhodey struggling to climb back to his knees on the floor, and the mess he had made. 

“What – what the hell?” he gasped, then he saw the parcel in Rhodey’s grip, and realisation returned. 

He held out a shaking hand to Rhodey. “That belongs to me,” he said, angrily. Rhodey passed him the parcel back. 

“What the hell is in there?” 

“Nothing,” Tony said, shaking his head, getting ready to move. 

Rhodey blocked his path. “No, I don’t think so. You agreed to work with me, talk to me, not to shut me out. So what the hell’s going on?!” 

“Nothing,” Tony said, cooling slightly. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re just going to lie straight to my face?”

Tony ran a hand across his face. “I need a shower,” he motioned down to himself. “This is disgusting.”

“I don’t care about that,” Rhodey snapped, feeling his emotion rise. “I want to know what the hell caused it!”

Tony’s shoulders seemed to slump in defeat. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” 

Rhodey waited quietly as Tony sighed to himself. “Ross, this is his response,” he said, shaking the envelope.

“What?” 

“Take a look,” he said, holding the envelope back out to him. Rhodey took it from him, feeling more nervous now.

“Go on,” Tony encouraged, and then held his breath as Rhodey peered inside. 

He looked inside, then looked back up at Tony again for reassurance. Tony nodded, then Rhodey held his hand out, and shook the contents of the package out into the palm of his hand as a look of disgust and horror crept over his face.

“Is that…”

“Yep,” Tony said, trying not to shudder again. 

“This is-“

“Yep,” Tony said again, then let out a long deep breath. “Ross is sending a message. He knows where I am, and he’s not going to hand himself in.”

“Tony, this isn’t a message, it’s a threat.”

Tony nodded, then held his hand out as Rhodey dropped the three teeth from the parcel and into his outstretched hand. He was pleased to see the heavy tremors had subsided into a slight tremble. Tony closed his hand into a fist, trying to fight back the panic and fear he felt as he was confronted with the memory of Ross and his men holding him down and-

“Tony!”

He snapped out of the memory again, opening his hand up and staring at the teeth, two of them still stained with his blood, the third looking surprisingly clean. 

He stood up out of his chair and moved over to the window, steps unsteady, but he didn’t stumble. Rhodey didn’t child him for getting out of the chair, and he was immensely grateful for it. 

He fiddled with the catch on the window and managed to push it open. He glanced at Rhodey and then threw the teeth outside, as hard and as far as he could. He closed the window, locked it, and leant against it as he tried to even his breathing out again. 

“You okay?” Rhodey asked, and Tony just nodded. “We knew Ross wasn’t going to surrender, this just confirms that.”

Tony nodded, biting his lip again as he thought, a habit he’d seemed to acquire over the last few weeks.

“What are we going to do?”

Tony looked down at himself, wiping his hands against a clean patch on his trousers. "I'm going to take a shower.”

“And then?” Rhodey asked him knowingly.

“Then I’m going to stop him.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is such a short one, but I've been so busy, and I'm starting a new job tomorrow (which I'm terrified about!), so free time is going to get even more limited! But things are going to go down soon!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and commenting, and please keep the comments coming! I'm going to try and get a much longer chapter out for the next update!
> 
> Thanks for your patience! x


	34. Chapter 34

Clint was surprised by the insistent banging at his door. He glanced over at Natasha, who was with him, and removed his gun from its holster as he moved over to the door cautiously, the person on the other side of it still banging loudly.

Clint threw it open and lowered his weapon as Rhodey walked in. 

“Hey,” he said wearily, then did a double take as he realised Rhodey had walked into his room. “Wow,” he said, as Natasha too rushed over to greet him, both surprised but pleased to see the man back on his feet. 

“Yeah, they’re great, look,” he said, dismissing their questions and congratulations. “We need to talk.”

Natasha paled. “What’s happened, where is Tony-“

“He’s – he’s fine.”

“Then where is he?”

“He’s back in our rooms, really, he’s fine. It’s just-“ He turned to face Clint. “Are you able to check in with your family?”

Clint frowned. “Why?” he asked, suddenly panicked, striding over to his phone on the counter. “What happened?” he hissed as he dialled.

“Probably nothing, just… please, call them, make sure they’re okay.”

Clint stalked out of the room, entering another code into his phone before it finally connected and started to dial.

“What’s going on?” Natasha rounded on Rhodey.

“Probably nothing,” he repeated, leaning against the counter to ease his stance. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, and explain this to me.”

Rhodey nodded, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Fine,” he said, taking Natasha’s arm and then sinking into a seat gratefully. 

“Look, it probably is nothing. Last week, Tony sent a message to Ross.”

Natasha glared at him, furious. “You didn’t think to tell us about this, to involve us? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Tony’s not exactly in a trusting mood right now,” he said, “and neither am I, actually.”

“Fine,” Natasha let it go. “So, I’m assuming Ross responded.”

Rhodey sighed. “Yes, he did. He sent Tony a package. He knows we’re here.”

“It’s obvious that we are here. Where else would we be?”

“Yeah. Well,” he swallowed hard. “He sent Tony the teeth they ripped out of his mouth.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“I think that was enough!” he snapped.

“So, he’s sending a threat. He isn’t scared. He’ll keep fighting.”

“Exactly.”

“You think he could have Clint’s family?”

“No, I don’t. He wants us. But, given Ross took them out as punishment because he wouldn’t give up the man’s children, I thought it would be best to make sure.”

Natasha nodded. “Okay. How is Tony?”

“Fine,” Rhodey lied. 

“Sure he is. Look, we need to start planning what we’re going to do.”

“Yeah, I know, though I’m not sure he’s going to want to involve any of you.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” she said coldly, “we’re in this together.”

“I know, I know that. I just… need to talk to him.”

“I understand. But we need to prepare, all of us, now. So just… make sure he doesn’t go off and do anything stupid, will you?”

Rhodey nodded. “I’ll try. I just… I don’t know what he’s planning, but he’s planning something, I know he is.”

“Can you keep an eye on him?”

Rhodey shrugged. “I can try?”

“You need to do better than try Rhodey! This is important. We need to – we need to call a meeting, we need to let T’Challa know…”

“No, not yet. Let me talk to Tony first, I need to talk to him, properly.”

Clint strode into the room, shrugging his shoulders. “Everything’s fine, so what the hell is going on?”

Rhodey stood back up, his body aching from wearing the braces for so long. “Natasha can explain,” he said, “I need to get back to Tony.”

*

Rhodey got back to their rooms, bypassed the mess in the kitchen and headed straight to Tony’s room. He knocked, but there was no answer. He waited a minute then let himself in. Tony wasn’t there, but he heard the shower running from the bathroom, so he went back to the kitchen, opened a window and then painstakingly cleaned the mess up from the floor. He finished and collapsed onto the couch.

He closed his eyes, and inadvertently dozed off. He woke with a jolt, stood up from the sofa, wincing at the stiffness in his back. He really needed to get the braces off. But he really didn’t want to lose the feeling of walking again. He checked his watch, surprised when he realised he had accidentally napped for over an hour. He wiped at his mouth and then headed back down the corridor to check on Tony.

He knocked again, and like before there was no answer. He opened the door, Tony was sat in the armchair by the window, wet through, watching something on his tablet intently.

“Tony?”

Tony jumped, startled, dropping the tablet onto his lap. He quickly picked it up and turned it off.

“Hey,” he said, when he noticed Rhodey staring at him. “You okay?”

Rhodey nodded and stepped further into the room. “Yeah, you?”

Tony nodded.

“What were you watching?”

“Oh, nothing, just some news reports,” Tony lied.

“Sure,” Rhodey said, leaning against the bed, folding his arms across his chest. He knew he was lying, he’d seen Peppers face on the screen when it had fallen from his grip. “You sure you’re okay?”

Tony nodded. “I’m fine. You should probably take those off soon,” he nodded towards the braces.

Rhodey shook his head slowly. “Tony, what are you doing?”

Tony looked confused. “Talking to you?” he asked. 

“You’re wet through,” Rhodey said, trying not to let his worry show.

Tony looked down at himself then laughed slightly. “Yeah, I had a shower. Needed to get cleaned up.”

“With your clothes on?”

“Yeah, I wanted to get rid of the mess,” he said lightly, patting himself down. “I’m gonna have another shower, I just wanted to clean the clothes off first. I was going to change but I   
just… forgot.”

“That’s what the laundry is for.” Rhodey moved over and held a hand out to Tony, helping to lever him up from the chair. “Jesus,” he said, shocked. “Tony, you’re freezing.” And his hands were shaking.

“I’m fine,” Tony said, “I’m gonna have a hot shower now. I meant to get straight back in, but I just… got distracted.”

“Tony, look at me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said sincerely. “Honestly.” The fact that he didn’t react with anger at the question only worried Rhodey further.

Rhodey watched him make his way back towards the bathroom gingerly. He sighed and went to go fetch his friend’s wheelchair, still concerned about Tony’s behaviour.

He returned fifteen minutes later, Tony had showered again, and was pulling a t-shirt on over his shorts, his back turned to the door. Rhodey swallowed hard and looked away from the rectangular Taser scars littering his back, then cleared his throat as Tony turned around. 

“Your chair,” Rhodey said, leaning against it tiredly. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony sat on the bed as he pulled some fresh sweatpants on. “I think you need it, more than me.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Your feet Tony,” he looked down at the small smudges littering the carpet. “They’re bleeding again.”

“Right,” Tony sat down in the chair, then leant over to inspect the pink stained soggy bandages on his feet. He shrugged. “You need a hand getting out of those?”

Rhodey shook his head. “I’m going to take them off later, I just… I don’t want to take them off just yet.”

Tony nodded, understanding. 

Rhodey moved over to sit in the armchair so he’d be facing Tony, but he realised there was a damp patch on it, from how long Tony had been sitting there soaked through. He   
perched on the arm instead, hands in his lap, trying to look casual.

“Clint’s family is fine.”

Shock flittered over Tony’s face, he had completely forgotten about his earlier panic that the threat of his teeth hadn’t been directed at him alone. “I’m sorry, I just forgot – I-“

“Its okay, Tony, they’re fine. But I’m worried, about you.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m just – busy. In my head, I mean. I’m just thinking, planning – what the best next step is.”

“Clint and Natasha know, about the communications.”

Tony looked annoyed.

“You don’t think they’d be suspicious that I’m banging at their door demanding Clint check his family are safe?” He snapped, even though he didn’t mean to.

Tony shrugged his shoulders but continued to glare.

“They want a meeting, a planning meeting, for what we’re going to do about this. As a team."

“Were-“ Tony stopped suddenly, and huffed to himself. “Fine. I understand. T’Challa should be there too.”

“Really?” Rhodey was suspicious, he didn’t expect such an easy turn around.

“Yeah, really. This isn’t just about me. But give it a few days, please, minimum. I need to just… think things through first.”

Rhodey nodded, smiling slightly. “No problem.”

*

Tony sat up in bed, reading through another article about the Secretary of Defence’s hunt for the outlawed Avengers. He chewed on his thumb nail as he read, only half taking in the words on the screen as he scrolled, still thinking about what to do. But he knew what he needed to do, he just had to accept that. 

“Friday,” he said softly, “What time is it?”

“It’s 2.15am, Sir.”

He sighed. “And the date?”

“October 3rd, Sir.”

Tony was surprised, he didn’t realise how much time had passed, it was literally months since this whole mess had started.

“Okay. I need to send another email to Ross.”

“Of course.”

“We need to meet,” he dictated. “Face to face. Tomorrow afternoon. Alone. Neutral ground.”

“Message sent.”

“Thanks Fri. Will you let me know when he responds?”

“Yes Boss.” 

Only five minutes passed before Friday spoke up again.

“Ross has responded, Sir.”

“Already?” Tony sat up against the cushions. “Using the email?”

“Yes.”

“Display message.”

Tony read the message, sighed to himself, then nodded his head. It made sense.” Friday – send my response: Agreed.”

“Message delivered.”

“Thanks.” He shut the tablet down, then lay back in the bed again, staring up at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind.

He closed his eyes, tried to sleep, but only one thing was on his mind. Ross. He was going to see Ross again tomorrow. 

In Siberia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating a day early, wahoo!
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! I think things might be kicking off soon! 
> 
> Please keep reading and commenting!
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! x


	35. Chapter 35

Tony sighed, shoulders hunching slightly, making the cuffs around his wrist rattle against the metal chair he was chained to. It was just like before, in the Raft, he though, as he again pulled at his wrists, which were both cuffed to each chair arm. He willed himself to stay calm, to stay strong. He had known he was walking into a trap, that Ross couldn’t be trusted. He had played his hand, and he had lost. Ross had won, and now he had to face the consequences. 

The door to the room opened, and Ross ambled inside, a leer slowly spreading over his face as he looked his captive up and down. 

“Tony,” he said, stretching his arms out widely. “Welcome back.”

Tony didn’t know where he was, but it wasn’t the Raft, not this time. He chose not to point that out.

Ross stepped close to the chair, staring down at his prey, and Tony forced himself to meet his eyes. 

“Did you miss me?”

Tony stayed silent, scared his voice would break should he try to speak. 

“Still giving me the silent treatment, I see. Well, we can change that.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, and pulled out the Taser. He waved it towards Tony, who stiffened suddenly, back pressed flush against the chair. 

“Did you miss this?”

Tony glared at Ross, but stayed silent. 

“Okay, well. If I remember correctly, this helped me get you to talk, before. Well, scream, more than talk, if I remember correctly." He laughed to himself. "Shall we see if it still works?”

He pressed the small device flush against Tony’s thigh, then grinned as he pressed the trigger.

*

Tony sat up in bed, chest heaving, heart racing, it felt like it was pounding against his ribs, demanding release. He held a hand against his chest, willing his pulse to slow. He looked   
around his room quickly, to be certain it really had been a dream, then climbed down from his bed and staggered to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water against his face, fighting the urge to vomit.

He’d slept for almost four hours, much longer than he had expected. There was no chance he would risk going back to sleep again now. He grabbed his tablet and sat down in the chair, hands still trembling, he willed them to stop, he hated himself for giving Ross this power over himself. If he couldn’t cope now – how would he cope later when he had to face the man for real?

He powered the tablet up, and logged into Friday. 

“Okay Friday, I have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. Are you ready?”

“For you Sir, always.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, look, this thing with Ross, have we had anything else from him?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Look, should this go wrong… I need to make some… arrangements. Call it contingency planning.”

“Boss?”

Tony tapped a hand against his forehead and closed his eyes for a second as he thought. “Okay. The Avengers get the Compound, I’d like it signing over to Steve. Give them a   
hundred mil, too. After that runs out, they need to finance themselves.”

“That’s very generous of you.” Tony swore he heard bitterness in her voice.

“Sure,” he said, dismissing the comment. “You need to shift some money to the Spider kid. But you’ll have to be smart, an anonymous donation of something. Scholarship? I don’t know, I’m leaving it to you. Anything too obvious would be painting a target on the boys back. And Harley too, actually, same thing, I don’t want to drag him into this.”

“Got it.”

“My money… split it straight between Pepper and Rhodey. Pepper gets the company, of course. And my properties. Rhodey gets my suits, all of them, and the bots. Happy gets my cars. Is that everything?”

“That is far from everything, Boss.”

“Then anything else, give it to Pepper, she can sort it, she’ll be fair. She can give it to charity or spend it on shoes for all I care.”

“You sound like you’re preparing to lose, Boss.”

Tony squeezed his hand into a fist, despite the lack of flexibility in his fingers. “I’m not planning to lose, Fri. But I do need to take precautions, that’s all.”

“You don’t have your suits.”

“I don’t,” he said, trying not to let himself panic at the thought.

“So what are you going to do?”

Tony sighed with frustration. “I’m still thinking about that!” he snapped. 

“Are you planning to go alone?”

“Yes, and I don’t want to hear any more about this.”

“How can you be sure Ross will do the same?”

Tony sighed again, shaking his head. “He’s going to have to go alone, I’m going to give him no choice.” He chewed his lip again, nodding to himself as he realised his plan was the only way. “And I’m going to need your help.”

“What else is new?”

A smile ghosted across Tony’s face at the sarcasm. “You’re not going to like it. But before that, I need the full schematics for this place – everything. Can you do that?”

“What do you think?”

Tony nodded, eyes lightening slightly. “Good girl.”

*

Rhodey was scribbling in his notebook when Tony left his room, walking gingerly on his still tender feet. He looked up and smiled before a more serious frown filtered onto his face.  
“Something wrong?” Tony greeted, taking a seat next to him on the sofa. He looked down and saw Rhodey was in the braces again. “You really shouldn’t overdo it in those,” he   
said. “I’ve sent the changes to T’Challa’s team, they should have the upgrade by tomorrow.”

Rhodey nodded, finished his notes and then closed the small pad, putting it into his pocket.

“I spoke to Natasha last night,” Rhodey said, looking more serious. “We’ve called a meeting, tomorrow morning, when T’Challa gets back on the grounds.”

He watched Tony carefully, sure he saw relief in his eyes, which he didn’t expect.

“All of us, Tony. You’re gonna have to face them.”

“No,” Tony cut in. “That’s fine. We need to take Ross out.”

Rhodey nodded, still curious by Tony’s reaction, he had expected more resistance.

“I’m going to the gym later, to spar with Nat. You should join us.”

Tony shook his head and scratched his neck uncomfortably. “No, not yet. I’ve got too much to do.”

“What do you need to do?”

Tony looked down at his knees, hating himself for lying to Rhodey, but he had to. 

“Planning. For tomorrow.”

“We’ll plan together.”

“No offence, but I’d rather have a head start.”

Rhodey clapped his hands together, looking guilty. “You’re right man, this is more important. I’ll call Nat, cancel. It can wait.”

Tony held a hand up. “No, you should go. It’s good practice, in the braces. You need to build your strength up.” He felt another pang of guilt for manipulating his friend as he was. “I’m assuming you’ll want to be involved, when we go after Ross? You need to be strong, fit. And I'm not exactly functioning at full capacity.”

Rhodey winced slightly, then nodded. Tony felt truly awful. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone, doing all the work?”

“It’s fine, honestly. Go work out, keep the feedback on the legs coming.”

*

Tony waited until Rhodey left, then sat for a full minute resting his head in his hands, holding his breath. Then he pulled his tablet out and spoke quietly to Friday. 

“Do you have the schematics?”

“Yes Boss, uploading schematics now.”

Tony rubbed at his chin as different thumbnails of maps covered the screen. “Show me where the quinjet is.”

He went back to his room to dress, pulling on black sweatpants and pumps, then a tee, with a heavy sweater on over that, for some reason wanting to layer up, not   
that it would help him in the slightest if it came down to it.

Fully dressed, he padded back down the hall and into Rhodey’s room. He looked around the room with his hands on his hips, before going over to his bed and reaching beneath the pillow. Nothing. He reached beneath the mattress and smiled to himself as he found a gun. He checked it was loaded, put the safety mechanism on, and pushed it in the back of his   
waistband. 

He saw a pen on the dresser and picked it up, along with Rhodey’s notebook. Not wanting to read what could be personal, he ripped a page out of the back and scrawled a quick note, before leaving it under the mattress where the gun had been before he had stolen it. 

He left their rooms, leaving the door unlocked behind him, and headed off to the hanger, casually strolling along, the tablet tucked tightly beneath his arm.

*

He was surprised to make it to the hangar unnoticed, and he passed through the large room slowly, looking at some of the aircraft here. There wasn’t much, the Avengers quinjet, and a few older looking models of T’Challas. Clearly this wasn’t where the King kept his own advanced jets, which would explain the lack of security. 

He looked around again before approaching the quinjet, the entrance hatch opened without resistance, unlocked, and he slipped inside, closing it up behind him. He headed straight over to the pilot’s seat, determined, and wasted no time in turning the engines on, before propping the tablet up onto the empty co-pilot seat, and checking the fuel levels.   
The aircraft was fully fuelled. Finally, some luck, he thought to himself as he typed onto the console, plotting their route.

“Friday, you ready to post?”

“Yes Boss.” She sounded reluctant. “Are you sure about this?”

Tony nodded to himself. “Yes. I don’t want to do it, but it’s the only way to ensure Ross keeps up his end of the bargain.”

“Doing this, he could still come with others, it could still be a trap.”

“No,” Tony was certain. “He’ll come alone. I know he will.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll just have to deal with that when we get there. Go ahead, post it all.”

“Everything?”

“Damn it, Friday, yes! All of it, now!”

“Done.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for snapping.” He took a deep breath. “Okay,” Tony flipped a few more switches and readied the craft for flight. “Are you good to go?”

Friday gave a very reluctant “yes.”

“Okay, full stealth mode,” he muttered to himself as he changed the settings. “Let’s go.”

Tony carefully taxied the jet out of the hangar, and then they were climbing, flying, and for the first time in months, Tony actually felt relaxed. He was taking charge again, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in control again.

He settled down in his seat, arms crossed, the jet now flying itself, and waited. 

*

Clint stayed hidden, in the back by the weapons armoury he had been stock checking when he had unexpectedly been joined by Tony. His mind was whirling – Tony was going after Ross, alone? Now? Shit! He decided staying silent was the best course of action, for now, Tony would not be happy to see him here, even if it was by accident. 

He reached for his phone, so he could alert the others, but he didn’t have it. It was in his jacket pocket, in the hanger, where he had taken it off due to the heat. “Damn it, Tony,” he whispered to himself, furious, but also relieved, so relieved, that he was here, and his friend wasn’t going alone, even if he didn’t know it yet.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is a week late, I've just been so busy recently, but I'm going to try and have the next post ready to go next Sunday!
> 
> ...and, Ross and Tony will finally face off again in the next chapter! I'm not sure who is going to come out on top yet... 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, and please, please, comment!!!
> 
> Thanks x


	36. Chapter 36

In just over two hours, Tony was bringing the jet in to land. He brought it in close to the entrance to the silo. He thought about hiding his presence, but what was the point? Ross knew he was coming. He set the aircraft down, then opened Friday back up. 

“You still with me?” he asked, feeling suddenly nervous.

“Always, Boss.”

Tony smiled. “Any news on the footage?”

“It’s gone viral Sir. Worldwide. It’s – chaos.”

“Good. Anything from Ross?”

“Nothing publically, no further contact has been made either.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Now what?” he asked, more to himself. “Do you think Ross is already here?” he asked, this time, directed at Friday.

“I’ve no idea,” Friday replied.

“Okay.” He got up, stretched his back out, then took the gun out from his waistband, checked it was loaded again, then tucked it snugly back into place.

“You have a plan, Boss?”

Tony scratched at his neck as he looked out of the window at the white snow, and the dirty grey concrete of the old missile structure standing out in stark contrast against it. 

“Not really,” he admitted. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater down and then nodded to himself. “Let’s do this.”

He was so caught up in thoughts of Ross, and his uncertainty over what was going to happen, that he never thought to even check the armoury of the jet, to get more weapons. He moved past the area where Clint was hidden without a glance in his direction, hands screwed into fists as he strode purposefully out of the jet and into the snow.

*

Rhodey finished his sparring session and went back to their rooms, tired, but in a good way. He showered and then went looking for Tony. He wasn’t in his room, so he assumed he had gone for another walk, maybe he needed a break from the pressure of the planning. He laid out on the couch and dozed off, more tired than he had realised.

*

Tony’s feet and ankles were soaked within minutes of leaving the craft, as he trudged through the snow towards the entrance of the structure. He crossed his arms against his chest to try and conserve heat, his body already trembling from the temperature. He hadn’t anticipated the weather, which was foolish, he now realised. He hurried his pace, trying not to worry about what else he may have forgotten to consider in his hurry to get here. It was too late to worry, now, he just needed to find Ross.

*

Clint counted to a hundred after Tony left the jet, then opened up the crate that stored their weapons and strapped as many guns onto his body as he could, without hindering his movement. He felt frustrated that he didn’t have his bow, it had been damaged in the fight at the airport. He cursed to himself again before taking off at jog as he left the jet, heading towards the building, wondering where Tony would be, and what the hell he was planning to do.

*

Rhodey was roused from his sleep by the noise of somebody pounding at his door. He rubbed at his face before getting up and opening it up, wondering if Tony had somehow locked himself out. He opened the door and was surprised as Steve Rogers barrelled past him into the living area, face flushed and looking panicked.

“Where is he? Does he know?”

Rhodey was confused. “Know what?”

“Is he okay?” Steve was glancing around the room frantically. Rhodey noticed the sweat on his face, and he was slightly winded, he had been running. His face was pale, and tight – something was clearly wrong. 

Rhodey felt himself go cold. “What’s going on, Steve?”

Steve put a hand on his hip as he took another deep breath. “Is Tony here?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” He motioned down the corridor, and Steve took off again, not bothering to knock, he charged straight into Tony’s room, and then the adjourning bathroom.

He ran back over to Rhodey seconds later, looking more concerned. “He isn’t here!”

“He’s been taking walks, trying to - look – Steve, what is wrong?”

Steve sighed. “Turn on the TV.”

Rhodey felt the hairs on his arms stand on edge. He staggered over to Steve and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. “Why?” he grumbled, terrified.

“It’s – they’ve… the files. Video files. From the Raft. Everything’s been released. All of it. Everything they did –“ he stammered, feeling sick at the memory of the clip he had viewed,  
before realising who and what it was and turning the screen off. “They’ve got everything Ross did, to both of you – it’s, on the news, everywhere. It’s out.”

Rhodey shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

“Turn on the TV,” Steve whispered, as Natasha came running into the room.

“Rhodey – is Tony – have you seen?”

She looked to Steve, realising that he was here for the same reason she was.

“The news – the footage” she gasped. Rhodey looked from both of them before grabbing the remote and turning the TV on, it was already set to one of the main US news channels, and Rhodey swallowed hard as he watched the female newsreader talk about the governments need to make a statement, the absence of General Ross in the two hours since the release of the footage, and the experts currently working to confirm the validity of the clips. A red banner ran across the bottom of the screen, reading “Tony Stark torture footage release: fact, or fiction?”

Rhodey turned the TV off, then threw the remove at it in a fit of anger, but it missed and struck the wall instead.

“What the hell?!” he yelled as he turned on Steve and Nat. “What’s going on, who did this?”

Steve looked bewildered, Natasha more composed.

“What?” he said, glaring at her, suddenly suspicious.

“It could only have been Tony, only he had the footage, only he broke the encryption.”

“You think he would release this?” Rhodey asked frantically. “You think he would want anyone to see what they – what they did to him? This is on the news, everyone in the world is going to see it!”

Natasha nodded calmly. “I know. But I think he did it, and I think he would only do this if there was a good reason.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Tony didn’t do this.”

“Where is he?” Steve asked again.

“I don’t know,” Rhodey admitted.

Steve’s phone began to beep, he left the room to take the call. Rhodey slammed a hand against the table. “What is going on?”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t know. But we need to find Tony.”

Steve came back in the room, looking more composed. “That was T’Challa’s head of security. Our quinjet is gone. Footage shows Tony going into the hanger almost two and a half hours ago, shortly before it was taken. It also shows Clint go in before him, maybe three hours since now. Footage doesn’t show either of them leave, so they could both have been on that jet.”

Natasha shook her head. “Why? Clint was checking weaponry, before the meeting tomorrow. You think he’s working with Tony?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can we trace it?” Rhodey asked.

“It’s in stealth mode.” Steve started to pace. “They’ve left, alone, and the footage has been released. This has to be related to Ross.”

Rhodey shook his head as realisation dawned on him. “The threat, from Ross. Tony’s going after him.”

“With Clint?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, shaking his head “But he’s going after him, I’m sure. Damn it!” He snapped. “He agreed to wait for the team meeting, tomorrow. I should have known something was wrong the second he didn’t put up a fight.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said, “we need to find them, and help them, now.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“The footage has been released, showing Ross torturing a prisoner – he’s limited in his options, there’s only so many places he can go. The government will be looking for him, the  
public will, most likely want blood.”

“Maybe they went back to the Raft?”

Rhodey shook his head. “I don’t think so, I don’t think Tony could handle going back there. And it’s still functional – it’s been heavily guarded, since the break outs. It would be too risky.”

Steve nodded. “I agree, it’s too much. Where else-“ he closed his eyes for a moment. “Sibera,” he said. “It’s where we fought, and it’s where Ross first took Tony in after they found  
him there.”

Natasha nodded. “Makes sense.” She was on her phone, typing quickly. “And in the jet, it’s doable in just over two hours. They could be there already.”

“That’s the location, I’m sure of it.”

Rhodey nodded his head. “It makes sense, but if we’re wrong?”

“Let’s hope were not. Suit up, meet in hangar 1 in 20 minutes?”

Natasha pulled her phone out. “I’ll contact the others.”

The two left Rhodey to get ready, he ran to his room, as much as he was able to in the braces. He reached under his mattress for his gun, frowning when his fingertips brushed against paper instead of metal. He hefted the mattress up and pulled the note out, his worst fears confirmed as he read the quickly scrawled message. The others were right, Tony  
was going after Ross.

_“Rhodey._

_I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m sorry you got hurt, and I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess. I’m trying to fix it, but if I fail, please know that I tried._

_Thank you, for everything._

_Your friend,_

_Tony.”_

_He threw the note onto his dresser and took off running. _  
*__

__The full group were waiting when he got to the hangar, Steve was briefing them. Scott looked worried, but Sam seemed eager to get going. Wanda wouldn’t look at him, and he wondered if she had watched the footage that, from what he could tell, was still being broadcast everywhere. Natasha appeared at his side and rubbed his arm gently._ _

__“We’ll get him back,” she said. “Both of them.”_ _

__Rhodey nodded, but he wasn’t sure he believed her._ _

__“Alright,” Steve said, rounding things up. “Let’s go. We didn’t stop Ross before, and we let Tony down. This is our chance to make that right.”_ _

__Rhodey was surprised at the words, but even more so at the expressions he saw on his old team mate’s faces. Anger, guilt, and determination to make amends._ _

__“Let’s go,” Steve ordered, and they climbed onto T’Challa’s fighter plane._ _

__“Let’s go,” Rhodey whispered to himself as he followed._ _

__*_ _

__Tony made his way around the large area quietly, stepping over, or around, piles of rubble and rocks left from the damage he had caused in his fight with Rogers and Barnes, from before. He climbed down to where the fight had ended, where he had thought that Steve was going to kill him, and scraped his shoe across some blood that had frozen against the stone floor. He rubbed at his arms for warmth, climbed back up the ramp and into the main building._ _

__“Ross?” He called out, trying not to shiver as the word echoed around him. “Hello?”_ _

__He walked into the main area and sighed as he saw the trashed TV, through which Zemo had showed him the truth about his parent’s death. He remembered sitting on it, waiting for what he thought was rescue, but what had only turned into another nightmare after he had been taken to the Raft._ _

__He moved over to the viewing booth slowly, where Zemo had waited before, protected. He leaned against the glass so his forehead was pressed flush against it as he peered into the darkened room. Suddenly, the light came on, and Tony jerked backwards in surprised, stumbling over his feet and falling backwards onto the floor as Ross was illuminated, stood protected behind the glass shield, as Zemo had been._ _

__Tony clamoured back to his feet as quickly as he could, then stood, staring at Ross, who stared back. Tony tried to stay calm, to keep his breathing even as he stared at the man who had caused so much pain and destruction._ _

__He watched as Ross’ face slowly turned into a cold smile, and bit the inside of his cheek to stave off his panic._ _

__“Tony,” Ross said quietly, the word somehow laced with anger and threat. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”_ _

__Tony just stared back, still biting on his cheek, still fighting the urge to just run._ _

__“You’ve caused me a lot of problems, with your latest antics. A lot of problems. But now I’m going to cause a lot of problems for you.”_ _

__Tony took a slow step back, unable to help himself, and Ross laughed. Tony felt his stomach twist at the sound, the coldness of the temperature turning his entire body numb._ _

__Ross stepped forwards, holding both hands against the glass, then nodded his head. The lights in the viewing booth went out, Ross disappeared completely from view, and Tony couldn’t help but gasp._ _

__*_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for leaving kudos, and your lovely comments! They really do encourage me to write more!  
> So the showdown begins... who will come out on top?!  
> x


	37. Chapter 37

Clint eased his way up to the second level of the silos outer structure, then crept along the metal grating as quietly as he could, stepping over holes and damaged panels when he had to. Finally satisfied with his vantage point he settled onto his knees and watched, gun ready to fire if it came to that. 

Tony took a few steps backwards as he waited for Ross to approach. Ross stepped out from the left of the booth, and Tony, gun forgotten, braced his hands into fists, raised them up but then dropped them back down to his sides again as Ross slowly moved towards him. 

He took another step back, then realised what he was doing, and took a step forwards, holding his breath as he did so, and Ross watched, amused, as he stopped a few feet away,  
staring down at Tony. 

“You look nervous?”

Tony let out a long sigh, the cold air freezing his breath before him. “Look,” Tony said, biting back his fear and dialling up his anger as much as he could. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we? There’s nowhere for you to go, now – people have seen the footage, they know what you’ve done, what you’re capable of.”

Ross’ face began to redden.” You have no idea what I’m capable of!” he shouted, and then started to pace angrily. “Let’s get this over with? Get this over with?” Ross laughed loudly and it echoed around the old structure. “You say that like you have any say at all in this. You seem to forget, Stark,” he spat. “I say jump, you ask how high!”

Tony shook his head, tried to force a laugh out, but the cold was making his teeth chatter so much that it came out more like a grumble. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “Things have changed. Way I see it – you need me now, you’re in the shit.”

“Really?”

“Have you watched the news recently?” Tony asked, knowing the words would wound. “Bringing Rhodey into this, you went too far. The public will want your blood! Maybe they’ll put you in the Raft?”

Ross clapped his hands together and started to laugh mockingly. “Good job, Tony, good job, very funny!”

Tony shook his head with frustration. “None of this is funny,” he snapped.

“So how do you think this ends?” he asked, words dripping with condescension. “You go home, and what? You still broke the Accords! And your buddies, the Avengers, even if they weren’t wanted criminals, you think they would want you back? They left you, before, for a reason. You remember that.”

This time Tony did laugh through his chattering teeth. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I don’t think a reminder would hurt.”

Tony rubbed his hands together to try and bring some feeling back into them. “Okay,” Tony said, shaking his head again. “What do you want?”

Ross smiled. “What do I want to do? I want to rip apart your foolish Avengers, I want every single one of your freakish friends locked up behind bars where you can’t cause any more chaos or destruction. I want to take you down a peg or too, and this time, trust me, Stark,” he said, taking a step closer, voice lowering. “This time, you will tell me where  
Banner is.”

“You really are insane, aren’t you?” Tony said. He was taken completely by surprise as Ross suddenly launched himself at him, the two men colliding and tumbling through the air before they hit the cold ground hard.

Tony gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, surprised and for a moment confused before Ross was climbing onto him, straddling his chest, pinning him down. Tony struggled beneath him, trying to shake him off, but he was too weak, Ross too heavy, and then the older man had a handful of his hair, holding him in place with one hand, using the other to punch him in the face.

Tony spluttered as his head bashed against the concrete beneath him, then gasped again as another fist landed, snapping his head to the side. After a third punch Ross suddenly released his hair and then both of his hands were wrapped around his throat, and Tony couldn’t breathe. 

He batted at the hands choking him, pulled at them, but to no effect, and Ross grinned as he snarled down at him. 

“Maybe,” Ross growled, spitting as he spoke. “Maybe I’ll just kill you instead. That’ll make it easier,” he grunted, as he pressed down harder. “To prove those videos were forged-“

He cut off suddenly to yelp as pain shot though his arm, and then he was on the floor, arm bleeding, he clutched it against his chest as he got over the shock. He looked around the room in confusion, and Tony did the same as he scrambled to his feet, coughing and gasping for air as he backed away from his attacker.

Clint watched the scene, still unseen, and satisfied that Tony was okay for now, he put his gun away and began to climb back down the structure to the ground floor so he could help.

“You little bitch,” Ross spat as he staggered towards Tony. “You brought back-up.”

Tony shook his head, looking around again. “No, no I didn’t,” he spluttered as he gasped for breath. What had just happened? 

“I wasn’t going to really kill you, earlier,” Ross said, advancing again, despite his wound. Tony coughed again, lungs still adjusting to being able to take in air again. “But now,” he said, “now I’m going to enjoy it. Putting a coward out of his misery.”

Tony took a deep breath, sucking in as much air as he could as he rubbed at his swollen neck, bracing himself for the next attack. He didn’t have to wait long, Ross pounced again, dragging at the collar of his sweater, dragging him to the ground before he started to kick at his victim. Tony tried to push himself back up but after three kicks he felt himself fall onto his back, ribs hurting, burning really, and breathing was suddenly difficult again, strained, restricted. 

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and Ross kicked out again, only partially connecting as he slipped on a wet patch of concrete. He fell to the ground at the same time as the gun came free from Tony’s waistband and skittered across the floor. Ross crawled towards it, and Tony pushed himself forwards, latching onto Ross’ middle and pulling him backwards. Ross kicked out again, and Tony clung on tightly, wanting to do more, to attack, but he was exhausted, and Ross was too strong. Ross kicked out again, connecting with the side of his face, and Tony was stunned for a second, completely losing his grip as he felt pain rush through his face and his ear. 

He held a hand against his ear, and realised why it hurt so much, the burns, still healing – he had forgotten about it. Tony pressed against his ear harder, then let go, ignoring the wetness coating his hand, he pushed himself up to his knees, shutting out the stinging pain. Ross was advancing on the gun, then he was scooping it up from the ground at the same time as Tony finally made it back onto his feet, swaying slightly. 

Tony’s shoulders slumped as Ross turned on him, five feet away, grinning wildly as he pointed the weapon at him. 

“It’s a shame,” Ross taunted, as Tony watched him dumbly, struggling to stay standing. “I would have enjoyed making you scream again.”

He straightened his arm and released the safety, Tony winced and then screwed his eyes shut in expectation as Ross pulled the trigger. The gun went off, and Tony opened his eyes, surprised, feeling no pain, there was no wound. But he could smell gunpowder. Was Ross taunting him? No, Tony realised as panic spread through him, and he saw 's body sprawled on the floor before him, unmoving. 

Tony looked from Ross to Clint, and realised what had happened. Ross looked equally confused, and the slight distraction was all that Tony needed. He launched himself at Ross, running on pure adrenalin and fury. The men hit the floor for a third time, Ross yelling out as his wounded arm hit the floor and the gun fell from his grasp. Tony ignored it and attacked, punching Ross in the face repeatedly. The man scratched at Tony’s face, trying to dislodge him, to stop his attack, and Tony grabbed at his bleeding arm and squeezed over the gunshot wound with both hands, as hard as he could. Ross screamed and withered beneath him, before falling back against the floor, unconscious. Tony was unaware, and continued to hit the unmoving body again and again until his fists and knuckles burned. Finally tiring, he climbed off of the man and grabbed the gun. He stood over Ross, body shaking with pain, exhaustion and shock, and aimed the gun at his tormentors head. 

“Don’t.”

Tony turned his head to see Clint staring over at him, half sitting, half slumped, his hand pressed against his bleeding stomach wound. 

“Don’t do it,” he said weakly.

Tony turned back to Ross, still seeing red, and shook his head repeatedly. “He doesn’t get away with this,” Tony said loudly, “not this time!”

“Don’t,” Clint repeated, sagging slightly. “He’s not worth it.”

Tony felt the gun in his hand began to tremble.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Tony shook his head again and rested his finger against the trigger. “Sorry Clint, he deserves it.”

“No,” Clint said, voice wavering. “It’s too easy. He deserves to suffer… for a long time. In jail.”

Tony lowered the gun slightly, but turned to face Clint. “You really believe that?”

Clint nodded. “You kill him, he wins.”

Tony stared over at Clint for a full minute before dropping the gun, and Clint sagged back down against the floor with relief. 

Tony hobbled over to him, arms braced against his chest and the pain threading through it.

“What?” Tony asked, bewildered, as he sank to his knees at Clint’s side. “What happened? What did you do? What the hell did you do?!”

“Saved you,” Clint snorted, before he gasped as Tony began to inspect the wound.

“Why?” Tony spat out, looking angry again. “Why are you even here, I was going to-“

“I’m here by accident,” Clint said, closing his eyes for a second. “Really.”

Tony tapped his cheek slightly and he blinked his eyes back open. “Clint, this is – you’re hurt… bad.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. We need to get you to the jet, now. Why did you do this?” Tony repeated angrily, eyes wet with tears. “Why would you do this for me?!” he yelled.

“I owed you,” Clint said, voice now a whisper. “Had red…. In my ledger….” He closed his eyes again, and Tony tapped his cheek with one hand as he used the other to try and stop the bleeding. He didn't reopen his eyes.

“Clint,” Tony yelled, pushing down on the wound, “why did you do this?” he yelled again as he reached out to check for a pulse. 

“No,” he gasped, now openly crying as he felt how slow it was. “Don’t do this, not now,” he whispered, panicked. “Not for me, not like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.  
> As always, please, please, please comment!  
> Thanks :)


	38. Chapter 39

Tony opened his eyes, and stared up at a white ceiling. The edges were blurred slightly, and he felt dull, heavy, like he’d been sedated, maybe. Or drugged with painkillers, perhaps. He’d seen this ceiling before, he realised, as he saw a mark on the left corner tile, as though there had been a leak, from the floor above. 

He heard the sound of somebody clearing their throat, and slowly turned his head to the side, and saw a woman, still blurry, seated in a chair by his bedside. Hospital, he thought, as he blinked his eyes a few times, and his vision sharpened. There had been somebody else, seated there before, he was sure, but he couldn’t remember who. 

“How long have I been here?” he asked, surprised by how unlike himself his voice sounded. 

Natasha sat up, looking slightly concerned. “We brought you in three days ago.”

He tried to sit up, and was alarmed when his wrists were restricted. He looked down, saw the cuffs, one on each wrist, chaining his wrists to the frame of the bed. He felt a sudden   
jolt of panic thread through him, and the heart monitor began to speed up, each beep coming faster and louder. 

A warm hand was suddenly on his arm, rubbing the skin gently. “It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just a precaution.”

“For what?” Despite the gruffness of his voice, the anger was evident.

“Tony… we’re in a difficult position here. There are armed guards outside the room.”

“What? Where are we, even?” he paused to cough. “What happened?” he asked, thinking back to before, trying to remember. Everything was still so dim, when he tried to think, like there was a barrier preventing him from accessing his memories. He shifted again, wincing at the sound of the metal chain rattling against the bed as he did so. “What happened – did Ross find us?”

Natasha looked uncomfortable. “You don’t remember?”

“No, uh…. Did we get caught? We’re not in Wakanda, are we?” It didn’t make sense, if he was under arrest, why weren’t the others?

“Do you remember releasing the footage, from the Raft?”

Tony closed his eyes, the words releasing something deep within him, and a sense of dread started to rise. “Yeah, I do, actually, I was…” he closed his eyes as he tried to think, it was hard, everything was too slow. “I went to meet Ross,” he whispered finally.

Natasha held his hand in hers. “Why?” The one word held more emotion than Tony had ever heard from her before. 

“I was going to make a deal, surrender myself. So everyone else could go home. I was trying to fix things.”

He closed his eyes as he tried to think back, then he suddenly sat up in the bed, and pain spiked a jagged path through his chest as he did so. 

“Clint, oh God, Clint was there– where is he? Where is he?” The monitor sped up again. “What happened, I was trying to – is he – did he?” He tried to reached out and cursed as his wrist snapped back against the metal restraining him. “Tell me,” he gasped, voice pleading, and Natasha shook her head. “Did I kill him?” he asked, eyes wide and desperate.

“We found you both, in Siberia. You were trying to drag Clint to the quinjet. There was a lot,” she paused to compose herself. “A lot of blood. He’s, holding on. He’s in a medically induced coma. The medics here, they say that it’s too early to know if he’ll pull though or not.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, paling, sinking back against his pillow, shaking his head. “I don’t know what happened… I went to meet Ross, he was going to kill me – and then – and – I don’t know. Clint was just there, he just fucking appeared!”

The heart rate monitor started to rise again, but they remained alone. 

“I didn’t know he was there, I swear to you Nat, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to involve him, this was between me and Ross, nobody else.”

Natasha clapped her hands together angrily. “This is about all of us,” she snapped, suddenly furious. “What will it take for you to understand what?” She held a hand up to stop him from responding. “I’m sorry, but it’s true, this concerns us all. You should have come to us, I can’t believe you went after Ross alone, after everything. What were you thinking Tony?” she asked sadly.

Tony shrugged, looking down at the off white blanket that covered him. “I just… wanted to end it. I was going to make a deal, that was my intention. I just wanted to stop Ross, even if that meant giving in to him. But it didn’t really work out.”

Natasha laughed slightly. “That’s an understatement.”

Tony tried to clear his throat, and winced at the action. “I’m sorry, Nat, about Clint. I really am.”

She nodded her head but said nothing else on the matter. “How are you feeling?”

Tony just shrugged. “I feel like I’ll feel a lot worse when I’m off of whatever it is that I’m on.”

Natasha laughed slightly. “Well, you’re on it for a reason. Ross did a number on you, I’m guessing. You’ve got three broken ribs, one of them punctured a lung. Plus swelling on your throat, a broken nose, and some more damage to your ear.”

Tony made to reach up to his ear, but was stopped by the restraints. 

“Am I under arrest?” He jangled his left wrist. “Is it because I got Clint hurt? Was it Ross? Or was it Steve, and the others? I understand,” he said hurriedly, “I just… it is my fault. All of this is my fault, especially Clint.”

Natasha shook her head slightly. “None of this is your fault. We’re in Germany.”

“Germany?” 

Natasha nodded. “It was closer, we needed emergency medical assistance, they responded to our radio request first.”

“But – the Accords?”

“You created quite a stir with that footage. We’re okay, for now. Steve made a statement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it helped keep the authorities off of our backs. We’ve been given a grace period, in the midst of all of this mess, to review out viewpoint on the Accords, and the Amendments, which T’Challa is fronting right now. After the footage they saw, people are suddenly willing to listen.”

“Good.” Tony stared back up at the stain on the ceiling. “So I’m not under arrest for breaking the Accords?”

Natasha looked uncomfortable. “What do you remember, about Siberia?”

“I met with Ross, he was angry, we fought. He… overpowered me. Clearly,” he said, nodding down at his prone body. “He was going to kill me, Clint, came out of nowhere.” He shook his head, still bewildered at the memory. “He took the bullet that was supposed to kill me,” he said quietly.

“And then?”

“We fought, again. This time I was on top.” He smiled slightly, but it quickly drifted from his lips. “I beat him. Then I was going to kill him, I wanted to shoot him, I was going to, Nat. I was just going to shoot him in the head, he wasn’t even conscious.” He paused and took a long, deep breath before continuing. “Clint begged me not to, said it wasn’t worth it. So I left him, I walked away.” He sighed. “I’m not sure that Clint was right, maybe I should have ended him.”

Natasha squeezed his hand again, her grip a little tighter than before. “You might want to curtail that kind of talk, especially when the men outside are allowed to question you later.”

“Why?”

“Ross.”

“He’s saying I tried to kill him?”

“He’s not saying anything.”

Tony shuddered. “He escaped Siberia?” Fear began to creep up the back of his neck. He tried to push it back down, but couldn’t. 

“Not exactly. Ross…. He’s dead. We found his body, in the silo.”

Tony’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?" Tony was aghast. "How?”

“Multiple head injuries, blunt force trauma to the face. He had swelling on the brain… he was already dead when we arrived.”

Tony stared back at her, dumbfounded. “I… I killed him?”

“It was an accident.”

Tony looked down at his bruised hands, the skin torn from his knuckles in places. “I beat him to death?”

“It was self-defence.”

Tony huffed, shaking his head. “He passed out, and I just kept hitting him, over and over again. I’m not sure that’s self-defence.”

The room was silent for a while, and then Tony broke it, muttering quietly. “He’s really dead?”

Natasha nodded. “He is.”

“I didn’t mean to, Nat, honestly. I wanted to. But I walked away, Clint saw me walk away.”

“All you can do is tell the truth. You ask me, this is just a formality. Some men from the FBI are waiting to question you, when you’re feeling stronger. It will be a box ticking exercise. It has to be. Ross has disgraced the US government and destroyed the Accords. They need to build trust with the public. And right now, after seeing the footage that's out there, the public are in a frenzy, as are the press. They’re rooting for us. They want us back, and they want justice. So this with Ross, they need to see it as an accident. Which it was.”

Tony nodded, looking pale, tiring. “I just can’t believe he’s dead.”

“I know you say you didn’t mean to kill him Tony, but even if you had deliberately shot him, in cold blood, I’d applaud you.”

“But I didn’t,” Tony said, uneasily.

“No,” Nat said. “You didn’t. And that’s the point. You couldn’t. This will all work out.”

“Easy for the one not chained to their bed to state,” Tony muttered, but smirking slightly, appreciating her support, especially given Clint’s situation.

Natasha smiled, leant over the bed and kissed him on the cheek gently. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve been tied to a bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late! Basically I wrote a chapter, then decided I didn't want to take it in that direction, rewrote it, then rewrote it again!   
> Thank you for all of your comments, and please keep them coming!   
> And as for Clint, I'm still undecided if he should live or die :O  
> Thanks for reading as always! x


	39. Chapter 39

Tony sat at the metal table in the interview room, leg jigging nervously against the floor as he waited. His hands were cuffed together, resting against the table top. He tapped a thumb nail against the cold surface in line with his foot against the floor. 

The door finally opened and he looked up at the plain suited man who entered the room, and nodded his head slightly in greeting. 

“Back again?” Tony said wearily, looking back down at the table. This was the third time he had been questioned by the slightly older and dour looking man. The government agent sat down at the table and began to unpack the recording equipment from his suitcase. Tony settled back against his chair, readying himself for another long session of answering the same questions as he had yesterday, and the day before that. His ribs pulled with the movement, he was taking a nominal amount of painkillers now, it meant that movement hurt and he ached all over, but he could think more clearly, which was an improvement.

The man finally finished setting his equipment up and opened his notebook up, then twisted the cap from his pen. 

“Alright,” he began. “Take me back to Siberia.”

“I’d rather not,” Tony said with disinterest. He knew he was supposed to be on his best behaviour here, but he was exhausted and they were covering the same ground over and over and he was feeling frustrated. “We’ve already been over this,” he pointed at the camera with his bound hands. “Was that thing not on, yesterday, or any other time we’ve been going over this?” 

The agent ignored him, flipping back through his notebook.

“You say you fought with Ross, and-“

“I did,” Tony cut in. “As I told you yesterday. Look,” he reached up to scratch at his chin awkwardly. “You know what happened, did I kill Ross? Yes. Am I glad he is dead? Yes. Did I mean to kill him? No.” He stared at the man coldly. “It was an accident, but I’m getting tired of this crap. Either arrest me and send be back to prison, or release me. You can’t keep me locked up in a German hospital forever.”

“Mr Stark, calm down-“

“Calm down? I am calm!” Tony stood up angrily, knocking his chair to the floor. The agent stood up too, fumbling with the camera, knocking it free from its stand, it clattered against the desk. 

“Don’t tell me to-“

The door to the room was flung open from the outside, and Nick Fury stormed inside.

He strode over to the table and righted Tony’s chair. “Sit down,” he ordered, before turning and pointing at the Agent. “You, turn that damn thing off, and get out. Now.”

Tony turned to look at Fury, stunned by the man’s appearance. 

“Who the hell are you?” the Agent asked.

“I’m Mr Stark’s legal representative. You’ve been questioning him for three days with no-“

“No way,” the Agent cut in. “He killed the Secretary of Defence, this isn’t some standard-“

“By withholding his right to legal representation, you are violating his human rights. Given the public’s attitude towards how the government has treat my client recently, I suggest   
you co-operate.”

The Agent shook his head, bemused. “This is bullshit. But fine, I’ll play along. You’ve got five minutes, then this gets turned back on,” he hissed, shutting the camera down where it lay on the table. He let the door close behind him loudly, to show his displeasure. 

As soon as they were alone Tony jumped back up from his chair. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled, still shocked. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be dead.   
Legally, you’re dead, Nick, you can’t be here!”

Fury shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. As of now, I’m alive, and I’m your lawyer.”

Tony started to laugh in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look, the public back home are in uproar, the footage from the Raft has been confirmed as authentic. Somebody,” he smirked as he spoke, “leaked the news of Ross’ death, and your arrest too. We need to strike while the iron is hot. And Barton, he woke up earlier-“

“What? Is he – is he okay? How is he?”

“He’s going to be off of his feet for a while, but he’ll pull through.”

“Thank God,” he smiled with relief.

“He was questioned, just an hour ago – he corroborated your story.”

Tony nodded. “Good.”

“So we need to get you out of here. Get all of us out of here. These clowns are dragging their heels. So here I am, cleaning up this teams mess, once again.”

Tony winced slightly at the use of the word “team.”

Fury moved over to the door and knocked on the surface loudly. “You can come back in.”

The Agent came in and sat down heavily in his chair, looking at Fury with irritation. “You better explain who the hell you are.”

Fury folded his hands together and smiled. “Like I said, I’m Mr Stark’s representative, sent on behalf of Stark Industries, who have verified the authenticity of the footage that was leaked from the Raft, and have made a public statement confirming their support of Mr Stark.”

“That’s got nothing to do with this-“

“I beg to differ. Ross’ death was an accident, there is a witness to corroborate this. Stark Industries are right now preparing to sue the United States government for the unauthorised arrest and torture of two of its citizens. I’m authorised to make a trade with you. You let my client go now, and drop this charade of a case against him, and they drop their intention to tear down the government. You know where the public stands on this. I suggest you make public statement confirming Mr Stark’s innocence in this accident, and try to distance the government from the actions of Ross and the Raft, as much as possible. A public apology to Mr Stark, and the other Avengers, would also be welcomed.”

The Agent gritted his teeth as he listened, shaking his head to himself.

“And let me make myself very clear, this isn’t a negotiation, those are our terms, and you will action them, now,” Fury continued, glaring at the man.

The Agent looked down at his notebook for a full moment before finally nodding his head, ever so slightly.

“Do we understand each other?” Fury asked darkly. The agent cleared his throat before nodding his head again, packing his items back into his briefcase and making to leave the room.

“Oh, and Agent,” Fury called out as the man made to leave the room. “That public statement better be issued within the next 24 hours.”

The man nodded again without turning around, fumbling with his phone as he left the room.

Once alone Tony turned to Fury and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell just happened?”

Fury pulled a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the cuffs around Tony’s wrists. 

“What happened was I called them on their bullshit, and I saved your ass,” he smirked.

“Have Stark Industries really been in touch?”

Fury shrugged. “Yes, via Ms Potts. They did verify the footage, and they are willing to sue the government on your behalf, but we didn’t expect it to come to that.”

Tony frowned at the mention of Pepper, desperate for more information on how she was, but instead he bit his lip and said nothing. Fury patted him on the arm. “You look exhausted, you should get some rest. I brought you some real clothes, and have taken out some rooms in a nearby hotel. We’ve got a lot of work to do, still. T’Challa is already in Washington, preaching the case of the Avengers and the Amendments. We need to be prepared for when we get back.”

Tony looked uncertain. “Get back, where?”

Fury smiled. “Home. Time to finish this thing off and put it to bed.”

Tony smiled back slightly. “That would be good,” he muttered quietly, slowly following Fury out of the room.

*

They were at the hotel an hour later, Tony newly discharged from the hospital, a small paper bag clutched in his fist containing some medication. He hadn’t been allowed to check in on Clint, the doctors weren’t admitting visitors, they were still angry he had already been questioned, doped on drugs and barely coherent. Natasha was staying at the hospital to be nearby when visitors were permitted, she didn’t want to leave him. They were trying to swing it to get Clint taken back on the jet with them the following evening, but it was looking unlikely.

“This is your room,” Fury said, handing Tony a key. “I’ve left a bag in there, with clothes and essentials. I’m in room 14,” he turned to point down the hall. 

Tony nodded as he took the key. “Thanks. Are the others, here?”

Fury nodded. “We’re all here, we have the floor to ourselves.”

Tony nodded again.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“What? Of course not.”

Fury folded his arms across his chest, looking concerned. “Look, Tony,” he sighed. “We’ve got to work together on this, all of us, to get the Amendments approved. We need to be a team.” He shook his head. “Or at least, we need to appear like a team, publically. Can you do that?”

Tony nodded again. “Of course,” he said, pushing the door to his room open.

“We’re meeting at 6pm, in my room. You should be there,” he tapped Tony on the shoulder. “Everyone else will be there. We need to talk strategy, make sure we’re on the same page. If you feel up to it.”

“Of course,” Tony repeated, stepping inside and closing the door gently on Fury. He pushed the door closed, bolted it, then dropped his bag pf prescriptions onto the floor as he leant against the door heavily, gently tapping his head against the frame a few times before taking a deep breath and pushing away.

He yelled out in surprise, startled when he turned around and saw Rhodey sat on one of the twin beds in the room, watching him.

“Shit,” Tony said, holding a hand to his chest, “you trying to give me a heart attack, on top of everything else?” he snapped, angrily snatching his bag up off of the floor and storming over to the free bed. “Fury didn’t tell me I had a roommate,” he added, angrily.

“You’re angry at me,” Rhodey snapped back, “seriously? You lied to me, you stole my gun, which I want back, by the way-“ he paused as a snort of laughter escaped Tony unexpectedly. “You run off to meet a mad man, alone, in the middle of nowhere, leave me a shitty note – and yet –“ he grinned even though there was still anger in his words. “And yet! You’re angry at me?”

Tony sat down on his bed heavily. “Do you know how long it took me to write that note? That was the most honest note I’ve ever written.”

“It was a load of crap, and you know it.”

“I’m sorry, for lying to you, but I did put a lot of effort into that note. And I don’t recall you coming to visit me in hospital?”

“I was there, you asshole, I was there for the best part of the three days you slept through.”

“And then?” Tony goaded, jokingly.

“And then when I knew you were awake, I came back here to make better use of my time.”

“Figures,” Tony nodded. “How’re they doing?” he asked, nodding at the braces.

Rhodey stood up and walked over to Tony’s bed, Tony stood up to meet him and they grasped each other in a brief, gentle hug. Rhodey moved back to his bed and grinned at Tony wildly. “I’d say they’re doing pretty well.”

Tony nodded, sitting back down. “Well, I made them, what did you expect,” he smirked.

“That’s more like it,” he laughed.

“Are you going to Fury’s meeting tonight?” Tony asked, getting more serious.

“Yeah, we need a clear game plan before we get back, for all we know, we could all still be arrested the second we land.”

Tony nodded. “Well, I’m getting used to that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Though after Fury’s stunt today, I think we’ll be alright, I’m not so sure about the others though.” He filled Rhodey in on Fury’s threat to the Agent and the government.

“You going to be okay, facing everyone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony shrugged again, but he looked uneasy.

“Are you su-“

“I said I’m fine!” Tony cut in angrily. He took a few deep breaths then ran a hand through his hair roughly. “I’m sorry, for snapping at you. But I’m fine, honestly. I’m just – tired.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey nodded. “I’m going to give you some space, maybe you should get a little shut eye?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I think I will,” he said. “I – do you know if my tablet, is it here?”

Rhodey frowned. “Yeah, I have it.” He retrieved it from his bedside table draw, and tossed it to Tony who caught it clumsily. “You get some rest,” he said, his tone making it clear he knew Tony was intending to do nothing of the sort.

“I will, thanks,” Tony said guiltily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late! I've had so much going on in my personal life, so finding time to write has been hard, but I am going to continue writing and will finish this story!
> 
> This is a bit of a filler chapter, and I'm hoping to get the story wrapped up soon!
> 
> BTW - Clint - I really wanted to kill him, but I just couldn't! I thought that if I killed him, Tony would never get over the guilt, and I think I've put him through enough in this story!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and for leaving your comments too, its really appreciated! x


	40. Chapter 40

As soon as Rhodey left and he was alone, Tony turned on the tablet, and forgetting to sign in to Friday, he instead went straight onto a search engine to type in his name, the fingers of his left hand pressed nervously against his lips as he scrolled down the results. Thousands of headlines appeared, most dated after he flooded the internet with the footage from his stay in the Raft. He filtered the results settings onto articles only, dismissing the numerous video clips, and started to skim read the headlines, as he scrolled down and down the seemingly endless list. The headlines varied in their support, of both him, Ross and the Avengers, although the most recent articles appeared to be in support of them, and the Amendments T’Challa was busily publicising – Tony was relieved to see the press had picked up on his active campaigning of the Amended Accords and weren’t just focussing on what had taken place inside Ross’ private prison.

He ran his finger down the screen and selected an article at random. Like the others, the headline had a small thumbnail image of himself to the left of it, this one showed him dressed smartly in a suit, and hadn’t ran with a photo from the Raft like most of the others. He smiled slightly to himself, as he decided that as soon as they got back, he was putting a nice suit on, he’d spent far too much time in sweats or scrubs recently. The smile drifted into a wince as he read the headline of the article, the big bold letters asking: “TONY STARK, TORTURED TRAITOR OR HAUNTED HERO?” He shook his head as he turned the tablet back off, not wanting to read anything else.

Finally remembering Friday, he turned it back on and signed in to his private server. Ignoring any pleasantries he launched straight into business. “Can we do anything, to get the footage retracted, delete it somehow? Is there any way to take it down?”

“Not possible, Boss,” Friday replied, her voice sounding resigned. ”The footage has been captured, stored or recirculated millions of times already, on thousands of different platforms and aps.”

Tony nodded, shoulders slumping slightly. ”That’s what I thought,” he whispered, before turning the tablet back off without warning. 

He wandered around the hotel room slowly, it was very basic, and had no window. The wall next to Rhodey’s bed held a full length mirror, and he stood before it, truly surprised at how unlike himself he looked. His hear was once again overgrown and untidy, he had a short beard covering his lower face, and his skin looked pale and sickly. Green and yellow bruising lingered around his neck from where Ross had tried to strangle him, his clothing hid other injuries and scarring, although from the way they hung off of him, it was clear that he had lost even more weight. He looked fragile, tired and old. He turned his head to the side and looked at his scarred ear, gently running an equally scarred finger down the damaged tissue before abruptly turning away and moving back over to his bed, still limping slightly, before laying down on it gently. 

He settled his head against the pillow, resting his hand against his injured ribs softly. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the meeting later, he didn’t want to have to face his former teammates again, but he knew he had to. He still felt distrustful of them, for leaving him in the Raft and not signing the Accords in the first place, but he also felt incredibly ashamed at the thought of them having viewed the footage. They had seen him weak, broken, and he really didn’t want to have to face them again, knowing that they had seen him this way. A small voice reminded him that they had come for him, in Siberia, and Clint would be dead because of him, if they hadn’t. He was grateful for that. But another voice, a louder one, began to whisper into his ear, questioning if they would have followed him, had he truly been alone. Maybe they had been looking for Clint, instead. He wouldn’t blame them for that. 

He didn’t expect to fall asleep, and Rhodey was equally surprised to see him sleeping soundly when he returned later. He tiptoed across the room to check on Tony, and smiled slightly, seeing he was in a deep slumber. He hated waking him, but knew Tony would not appreciate being excluded from the meeting later.

“Tony, Tony,” he shook his friend on the shoulder gently. Tony startled awake, as Rhodey expected, but calmed after a few seconds when he realised it was Rhodey stood over him, smiling warmly at him.

“I must have nodded off for a few seconds,” he said defensively as he sat up stiffly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, do you usually drool all over yourself when you nod off for a few seconds?”

Tony swiped at his mouth, his hand came away dry. “You asshole,” he grinned, getting up and stretching slightly, careful not to stretch his ribs out too much,

“Yep, that’s me,” Rhodey said, grinning back at him widely. “Meeting’s in half an hour,” he said, checking his watch, “I didn’t know if you wanted to get changed?”

Tony rubbed both hands against his face as he yawned. “I need to change,” he admitted. “Any chance Fury left me a three piece suit in that bag?” he asked dryly. 

Rhodey unzipped the bag and rummaged through it. “Noooo,” he said, pulling out some folded clothes. “But if you’re ready for a change, there are grey and navy sweats in here   
instead of the black?” he mocked.

“Great, I guess I’ll go with the navy,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do I have time for a shower?”

“Depends how long you take to shower?” 

Tony grinned again, “You know what I like about you,” he said as he made his way towards the bathroom. “You’re always so helpful.”

*

They made it to Fury’s room early, Rhodey thought it better that they arrive first, although he didn’t voice this to his friend, and instead insisted that he didn’t want to be late. Tony had quickly showered and dressed, and had quietly taken the painkillers he had been prescribed from his most recently hospital trip. Rhodey pretended not to notice, but was instantly relieved to see it.

Rhodey whistled as they entered Fury’s room, it was large, and had multiple rooms leading off from the main living area, which held a large table, covered with what looked like legal documents and copies of both the original Accords, as well as the Amendments. 

Fury shook Rhodey’s hand and then patted Tony on the shoulder as he passed, heading for the large window overlooking a courtyard. “Compared to this, our room sucks,” Tony greeted, pressing his head against the glass as he looked outside. “I’ve had better views, though,” he added, before taking a gentle but deep breath as he turned back around to face the room. Rhodey had taken a seat on one of two large sofas, and Fury was hovering by the door, expecting more visitors.

“So what are we doing here?” Tony asked, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

“War meeting,” Fury said, grinning darkly. “We’re going home tomorrow, we need to be prepared. I’ve got people working to legalise my resurrection,” he laughed to himself slightly. “But we’ve got to make sure the authorities aren’t going to be waiting to arrest everyone else. And we need to get the Amendments implemented, now.”

There was a knock on the door, and Steve Rogers walked in awkwardly, followed by Sam, Scott, and then Wanda. Tony turned back to face the window, then made himself turn back around again to face the room. Wanda hovered around the door nervously, she made eye contact with Tony, and they both quickly looked away at the same time, guiltily. Sam headed straight over to Rhodey, they shook hands and made small talk. Tony watched, surprised to see that two men almost seemed to be on friendly terms. Sam sat down by Rhodey on the couch, and their conversation continued. Focused on the conversation, Tony was startled slightly when he realised Steve was stood before him, looking sheepish as he held his hand out towards him.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, Tony,” he said quietly, but sincerely. 

Tony hesitated for a moment before reaching out to shake the offered hand lightly. “Thanks,” he muttered, not quite meeting the man’s eyes. He tried to smile but it looked more pained than comfortable. “You too,” he said clumsily, and for a moment Steve just stared at him, guilt and pity shining in his eyes, and Tony hated it. He cleared his throat before Steve moved away awkwardly, going over to Rhodey to greet him politely. Rhodey responded with equal politeness, but his expression was cold and unfriendly.

Fury took a seat by Scott at the table, and motioned for everyone to join them. Tony took the chair to Fury’s left, but didn’t sit, instead choosing to lean against the chair back as everyone else made themselves comfortable. The atmosphere was tense, almost uncomfortably formal and Fury noticed this and sighed. 

He pointed over to the door where Wanda was still standing uncertainly. “Miss Maximoff, are you planning on joining this meeting?”

She played with her hands, sending off little sparks of red energy, Tony tensed as he watched her. 

“I don’t want to intrude,” she said, finally.

“Wanda, join us,” Steve said, concerned.

Fury knocked his fist against the table top twice. “Are you an Avenger, Miss Maximoff?”

The room was silent as each man watched Wanda nod slowly.

“Then get over here, so we can get started. This is a team meeting,” he ordered, emphasising the word “team.”

She took a seat between Sam and Steve, but still looked nervous. Tony didn’t understand why, but ignored it, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

“We have thirty minutes before King T’Challa joins us, on screen. He’s managed to arrange a special meeting, so he can present the Amendments to the committee tomorrow, we need to make sure we’re all sharing the same headspace before he does that. And we need to agree on the requirements we are also requesting, alongside the Amendments.”

“Requirements?” Rhodey asked.

“Our conditions. We need to demand full immunity from the Accords and what happened before.”

“Why not demand full autonomy and immunity as part of the Amendments?” Scott asked.

“Have you read the Accords yet,” Rhodey snapped, “or the Amendments, even? The whole point is that we shouldn’t have autonomy, not completely.”

“We need to keep the two issues separate,” Tony said, quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Tony kept his eyes on the table. “We need to get the Amendments approved, that has to be the priority. If we insist on pardons at the same time, it’s like were blackmailing them, and that also takes the focus off of the Amendments, but they’re too important, we need them if we want to prevent another situation like Ross from happening again. And if you want to operate again, they need the full backing of the government first.”

“What do you mean, “you,”” Steve asked. 

“What?” 

“You said if “you” want to operate again.”

Tony gritted his teeth. “What I mean is, if the “Avengers” want to operate again, the Amendments need to be implemented, with the full backing of the government, not because we are holding them to ransom and they have no choice.”

“And what if we do that, and they still pursue us for breaking the Accords?” Scott asked.

Tony shrugged, continuing to stare at the table. “We deal with that then, and hope it doesn’t come to that. But the Amendments have to be the priority.”

“Easy for you to say when you’ve got full immunity already.”

Tony finally looked up to glare at Scott. “What?”

“I just find it funny, is all. Now you and your buddy have a pardon for what you did-“

“I don’t have a pardon, and Rhodey has nothing to do with this-“ Tony paused for a second, trying to order his words. “I was cleared for killing Ross, that’s completely different, it’s,   
it was an, an accident and-” he stammered again. 

Steve stood up from his chair, staring at Scott angrily. “Tony’s right,” he interrupted. “We broke the law, before. Just because we want to introduce a new law, we can’t do so with the caveat that we are pardoned for our previous crimes committed when breaking the old law. If we do that, the public will never trust us again. We get the Amendments passed, then we deal with what happened before.”

Scott backed off, but didn’t look happy. Tony dared a quick glance around the table, Sam and Wanda were both nodding their heads in agreement with Steve, and Steve himself, along with Rhodey, was staring angrily over at Scott. Fury was watching Tony watch the others with curiosity, Steve sat back down in his seat, Tony made as thought to do the same, but then stopped himself and remained standing.

The tension was broken by a light tapping at the door, and Fury was surprised to see Natasha there. “I thought you’d be at the hospital,” Fury greeted. Natasha stood by the table, looking tired. 

“I’ve asked if there is any way we can bring Clint back with us tomorrow, even with a nurse on the jet, but it’s too soon, he isn’t stable enough.”

Tony chewed at his lip, feeling bad, he had hoped Clint would be able to travel back with them, it didn’t feel right that he should be left behind. “I’m going to stay with him,” Natasha continued. “If he’s stronger by the end of the week, we can travel back then. I hope you don’t mind sending the plane back for us?”

Tony just shrugged, and then T’Challa’s call came through, and he updated them on the situation in Washington. He was positive the Amendments would be well received, and they complimented him on negotiating the slot to present the Amendments to the committee on the following day, before the returning Avengers would then hold a joint press conference, together, hopefully after the acceptance of their offered compromise. Tony listened but didn’t contribute to the meeting any further, he was tired, and the thought of a press conference stressed him. He excused himself from the table and went to the bathroom where he washed his face with cold water. The meeting hadn’t been too bad, he had to admit, and facing the others, it hadn’t been too difficult, even with Scott’s concerns regarding his freedom, and Steve's pitying looks, it was clear they were all working towards the same goal. “As soon as the Amendments are in, this will all be over,” he whispered to himself as he patted his face dry with a towel.

He left the bathroom and dipped into one of the other rooms, not wanting to re-join the meeting just yet, he needed a break. He opened the closest door to the bathroom and was led into a small bedroom. He only noticed Wanda perched on the corner of the single bed after he had closed the door behind himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, slightly startled. “I didn’t realise – I thought you were still with the others.”

“I just wanted to take a break from it,” she said lightly, “same as you, I guess?”

Tony nodded and made to leave. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said, awkwardly.

“Do you blame me?” Wanda asked quickly when his back was turned. Tony turned back around slowly, confusion on his face. 

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Do you still blame me, for before? For Ultron?”

Tony shook his head, really not wanting to have this conversation now, or ever, actually. “I, uh, no,” he said. “I was mad, before, but I don’t blame you.”

“Why?” She was still playing with small sparks between her fingers, and it made Tony feel nervous.

He took a deep breath, deciding just to be honest. “I killed your parents, Wanda,“ he said gruffly. “I guess I just feel lucky that you didn’t outright kill me for that.”

“I knew that death was too easy an out for you,” she said, and Tony flinched, because she was so right, after the past few years and everything he had gone through – death really   
would have been the easier option. “I was angry,” she continued. “I blamed you for my parent’s death, but you didn’t kill them.”

“My weapons did,” Tony mumbled, still hating himself for that.

“If I hit somebody with my car, and kill them, is that the car manufacturers fault?” Wanda laughed slightly. “That’s a really bad analogy. Especially when I don’t have a car, and I can’t even drive. I did blame you, before, but I was young, and I needed somebody to hate. Without that, I don’t know what I would have done. But you weren’t to blame, I know that now.”

“If you’re saying this because of what Barnes did to my parents, please don’t,” Tony said, his words more clipped. 

Wanda smiled again as she shook her head. “I just, feel bad. I feel like Ultron was the start of all of this. But this has nothing to do with you and Bucky. It’s just… Ultron was my fault, ultimately, and it was the start of all of this."

"I created Ultron," Tony said, looking down at his feet. 

"No," Wanda sighed softly. "You were a pawn in my game, and it cost me my brothers life."

Tony sighed too as he leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t want this conversation, not now, not ever. But her words reminded him that she really had lost everyone, and he knew how that felt, and suddenly, the bitterness he had held against her, for so long, was somehow turning into sympathy. 

“I blamed you for my parent’s death, but never my brothers, that one, that will always be on me,” she continued, her tone regretful.

“It’s not that simple, Wanda,” he said, and suddenly he felt so, so old.

“I did blame you for throwing me into the Raft, still do a little, if I’m honest,” she admitted, still playing with the sparks. “Although I do understand why.”

Tony’s posture stiffened at the mention of the Raft. “Well,” he said, seeing that she was expecting him to speak. “I guess I got what was coming to me for that, didn’t I?” Was this   
what she wanted, he wondered, to gloat about what had happened to him?

Wanda was surprised. “What?”

“Well, it’s safe to say I got what I deserved. I threw you all in there, then I got a taste of my own medicine.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think that. Not at all. I don’t know what happened to you in there,” she said, “but whatever it was, I don’t believe you deserved it.”

Tony scoffed. “You’re telling me you haven’t watched the footage? I’d have expected you to get off on that.” He knew he was being crass, but he couldn’t help it, he’d rather have her anger, than her pity.

“I didn’t need to watch it,” she said, remaining calm, ignoring his attempt to rile her. “When we brought you back, I could sense your pain.”

“If you’ve been in my head again!” Tony spat, suddenly furious and terrified at the same time.

“No,” Wanda said, the red disappearing from her fingers. “I’d never do that again, not to anyone. I don’t do that anymore. I learn from my mistakes.” She said, almost as though trying to convince herself. “But I do sense things, just from being in another's presence. It’s hard, to turn it off, or dial it down. Right now, I sense… discomfort, and uncertainty. When I’m with Steve, I feel lonely. With Clint,” she smiled. “I always feel warmth from Clint, in any situation. When you were brought back, I felt pain, it was the strongest feeling I’d ever latched onto. Just pain, endless pain, and hurt. It was awful. Why would I want to watch the cause of such despair?” She shook her head. “I’m not sick, I don’t enjoy any of this, I’m just sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for all of us, actually.”

Tony just stared at her, still confused.

“We’ve all done bad things, terrible things, whilst believing we were doing the right thing. We had something good, and we ruined it. We’re trying to fix it, they’re trying to fix it, in their right now,” she nodded her head to the door. “I’m just not sure that it can be fixed, not to how it was before.”

Tony scratched at the back as his head as he nodded in agreement. “I don’t think that it can ever go back to how it was,” he said quietly.

“No,” Wanda mused. “I guess we just have to start again, instead.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She laughed again. “No, it’s not. This press conference, tomorrow. I shouldn’t be there. The press will eat me alive.” She looked scared for a moment. “After Laos, I can’t start again, not with the public, they don’t trust me, they fear me.”

Tony rubbed a hand at his face. “Then don’t go,” he said tiredly. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be the main attraction anyway,” he said bitterly, before taking a deep breath. “But, it serves a purpose. Tomorrow is important. We need to get the Amendments approved, and then, the press conference… but if it all works out, afterwards, it means we can go home.”

Wanda looked up at him sullenly. “I don’t have a home,” she said quietly.

“No,” Tony muttered, looking at the wall past her head. “I guess I don’t either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, massive apologies for the lateness of this chapter! I'm just so busy at the minute, but I'm going to try and get this all tied up over the Christmas period!
> 
> Also, I can't believe this is over 100,000 words long! This is by far the longest thing I have ever written, and thanks so, so much for reading this, and leaving all of your lovely comments!
> 
> Thanks x


	41. Chapter 41

A Stark Industries jet was waiting for them at the airstrip. Tony, Fury and Rhodey travelled together in one cab, the others in a second. Tony looked up at the jet, it was one of the smaller ones, fancy in terms of its internal luxury, but nowhere near as fast as the quinjets, it was going to take hours to get back to the US. Tony looked up at the black bold lettering adorning the aircraft and sighed. Rhodey patted him on the shoulder gently. 

“You ready to go back and do this?” he asked, as Fury paid the driver. 

Tony nodded. “Surprised they still have my name on the side, to be honest.”

“Looks like fresh paint, to me,” Rhodey said grinning. 

“Yeah, probably,” Tony huffed a laugh. He looked up at the steep steps leading up into the plane. “You need a hand?”

Rhodey shook his head. “I got this,” he said, then slowly made his way up the steps, gripping the handrail tightly. Tony waited until he reached the top and then smiled to himself proudly as he followed him up.

Pairs of large, spacious leather chairs lined each side of the centre aisle, broken in the centre by a large conference table with more plush seating. Rhodey took a seat and Tony tapped him on the head gently as he passed, going to the back row and slouching down in a corner seat, his body twisted so his back was towards the seats on the other side of wide aisle, his front facing the window. He looked out of the window but closed his eyes when he saw the second cab arrive. He pulled his legs up on to the second seat to ensure he remained undisturbed, and when the others boarded the plane and took their seats, when Fury asked where he was and they all turned in his direction, he pretended to sleep.

After thirty minutes of feigning sleep, listening to the hum of the engines and trying to ignore the conversations taking place in the background, Tony slept for real. He dreamt of Rhodey and Pepper falling, side by side, doubling his odds of at least being able to catch one of them, but somehow he still seemed to fail them both. His dreams continued to switch and swirl, sometimes he was back in the Raft, under the control of Ross, sometimes he was in an Afghan cave with Yinsen at his side, but it was the sight of Captain America slamming his shield down into his chest that managed to jolt him from his slumber. 

He woke with a startled “oomph” sound that was muffled by his fist which was pressed tightly against his mouth. He pushed his face against the window for a moment as he tried to ground himself, and it helped, cooling his hot and sweaty cheek. He waited a few more minutes before opening his eyes and sitting up fully, and was surprised to see somebody had thrown a blanket over him, earlier. He shrugged it off and ran his hands through his hair and then patted his cheeks to try and reduce his grogginess. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see he had slept for over two hours. A glance between the two seats before him showed him that most of the other passengers were seated at the conference table in deep discussion. Tony sighed as he saw Steve stand and stretch, then closed his eyes again as he saw the shield coming back down towards him again.

“Shit,” he whispered as he slapped his cheeks again sharply, willing the memory away. 

He slumped down again in his seat and clenched his still trembling hands into tight fists, angry at himself for the reaction. He concentrated on breathing evenly and looked out of the window for a distraction, but heavy cloud obstructed the view. He closed his eyes and tapped his left foot against the floor in line with his heartbeat, then jerked against the window in shock as he saw Steve stood over him for real when he reopened his eyes. 

“Jesus, warn a guy Rogers!” He snapped angrily. “You watching me sleep now, do you know how weird that is?”

He ran a hand over his face as he quickly tried to control himself, but he could feel his heart beating faster and harder against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, I was just checking- I, I was hoping we could talk? But, I can come back later, if this is a bad time.”

Tony sat up straighter and invited Steve to sit down on the vacant one next to him. “It’s fine,” he said unconvincingly. “What’s up?”

Steve nodded his thanks. “I just thought we should plan, what we’re going to say at the press conference later.” He paused as he saw a look of worry flash over Tony’s face. “Fury wants us to lead on it together, and I guess he’s right. We need to put on a united front, after everything from before.”

“The irony,” Tony muttered, chewing his lip.

“What do you mean?”

“Fine, you’re right, we need to put on a united front, I get it. I’ve lied to the press a thousand times before, what’s once more?”

Steve looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Tony, I thought we were okay-“

“Okay? I’m sorry Steve, but I am not okay,” he hissed. “I apologised for trying to kill your buddy, and I meant that, I was out of line, but so were you. You lied to me Rogers, you lied to my face, about my parents. I don't think I can forgive that, ever." 

“Tony, I’m sorry, I really am, and I don’t want to argue with you about this, but it wasn’t as simple as that.”

“Look,” Tony cut him off. “I don’t care,” he said coldly. “I really don’t. We do this press conference, and then we’re done, I’m done with all of this.”

“What do you mean, done?”

“I mean, done. I’m cutting all ties with the Avengers, with all of this bullshit. I’ve had enough. I’ve tried so hard, so hard, to do good, and what have I actually achieved? I’m the one person who truly believed in, and fought for the Accords, and yet I’m the one who got my ass kicked and thrown into the Raft. I’m sick of being the whipping boy, and I’m sick of being the scapegoat. I’ll go stand shoulder to shoulder with you in front of the cameras, but that’s it, the second that’s over, we’re done. Do you understand me?”

“Look, I think we need to-“

“Do. You. Understand. Me?” he said darkly, his eyes dangerous.

“Yes,” Steve finally nodded.

“Good.” Tony glanced at his watch again. “T’Challa’s not going to present the Accords for another hour. If they don’t get accepted, we don’t need the press conference, meaning we don’t need this conversation until we know for sure that it’s going ahead. If they’re voted in, we’ll talk then. So if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to be doing right now.”

Steve nodded, still hurt, but not wanting to push Tony further. “More important things like staring out of the window?” he asked quietly.

Tony twisted his body towards the window again as he nodded to himself. “Exactly.”

Steve nodded, picking up the blanket he had covered Tony with earlier and taking it with him back to his seat.

*

The seat beside him was empty for only five minutes, before somebody else joined him. Tony sighed to hide his frustration, he just wanted to be left alone. 

“What’s wrong Sourpuss?” he asked, finally turning to look at Rhodey. 

“You know the whole plane heard that conversation right?”

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, Rhodey. I don’t care. I’ve had enough, I’ve just – yeah, that’s it.” He smiled slightly. “I’ve just… had enough.”

Rhodey nodded. “You’re really going to leave the Avengers?”

“I’d pretty much left them before, anyway. I wasn’t on active duty.”

“You were still an Avenger, Tony.”

“Well, not anymore. I meant what I said, as soon as the Amendments are in, that’s it. I’ll go swim with the sharks for one last press conference, then I’m tapping out, for good. What?” he asked, looking at Rhodey. “You mad at me?”

Rhodey laughed, then put a hand on Tony’s knee and squeezed it gently. “I’m not mad, I’m surprised, and I’m relieved. I’m really relieved. You need to put yourself first, for once. This is probably the most sensible decision you’ve made in years.”

Tony grinned, not realising how much he wanted his friends support until he had it. “Well, I am good at making bad decisions.”

“That you are,” Rhodey said, patting him on the knee again. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna go to the room at the back, get a couple of hours sleep in while I can. I have a feeling things will be hectic when we land.”

Tony nodded his agreement and turned back to face the window once alone again. He looked out at the clouds, it looked like snow, and he felt like the plane were gliding through it as though on skis. He felt a calmness suddenly overcome him, and he knew it was the right decision, to leave the Avengers. It didn’t mean he had to give up Iron Man, if he was needed, he’d be there, but he was no longer an Avenger. Hadn’t been, for a long time really, since Ultron, probably, so this would just be making it official. He rubbed a hand over his face again and was surprised to find it wet with tears. He shrugged as he dried his face with the sleeve of his sweater, and continued to stare out into the clouds, picturing himself flying through them, just him and his suit.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this! As always, much love for the kudos and comments, please keep them coming! x


	42. Chapter 42

The call from T’Challa came through an hour later. Fury took it, and Tony stayed seated away from the others, but he straightened up to look over the seats and gauge Fury’s reaction. Tony smiled slightly as he saw the wide grin break out over the elder man’s face. Fury saw him watching and gave Tony a thumbs up. Tony nodded at the man before slouching back down in his seat, a second smile drifting over his face as he closed his eyes in relief.

They were in, the Accords had been approved, they could now fix this mess, and then they could go home. Home. He wasn’t sure where that was, but whenever he pictured it, he saw Peppers face, her eyes, her smile. He opened his eyes and reminded himself that he and Pepper were no more. She had ended things, even before he had managed to mess things up so spectacularly, she wouldn’t want to go anywhere near him now. And if she had seen the footage… well, there was no going back from that, they were over, done. He sighed again and chewed on his lip as he tried to think about the follow up work required now that the Amendments had been officially approved, pushing any personal thoughts aside. The Councils approval was only the beginning, the real work begun now. 

He was distracted from his thoughts as Fury joined him, taking the seat at his side, mobile phone still in hand despite the call having ended. He reached over and grabbed Tony’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly as he grinned again triumphantly. “We did it,” he laughed happily, “you did it.” He let his grip go and shook the phone in his hand. Tony didn’t think he had ever seen the man appear so emotional before.

“T’Challa said it was a full house, everyone was in agreement, this thing with Ross, well, after what they saw, after what Ross did, they didn’t need any further persuasion.”

Tony chewed on his lip a little harder before nodding. “Great,” he said, realising he was expected to speak. “That’s… really great.”

“That it is,” Fury said, now scrolling down a news feed on his phone. He tilted it towards Tony. “It’s already being picked up, all over the world. We land in two hours, Pepper’s scheduled a press conference in three. We need to be prepared.”

Tony nodded his agreement, not looking at the news headlines on Fury’s phone. 

“I need you and Rogers to put up a united front,” Fury continued, “it’s vital that no cracks are visible, the world needs to believe that you both believe in each other and those Amendments.”

Tony nodded again. “Right.”

Fury looked at him pointedly. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Do what?” Tony asked, mind wandering again. “I’ve done a million press conferences,” he said, not wanting to admit even to himself just how much he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to get off of the plane, go rent a room somewhere and hide, hibernate, just ride this whole thing out. To go and stand in front of the world’s press, in front of millions of people who had seen what Ross had done to him less than a week ago, people who had heard him scream, beg, most of whom probably thought he deserved what had happened… “I can do this,” he snapped, trying to push the thoughts scrabbling for attention from his mind.

“I know you can do it,” Fury said, his voice steady, calming. “I just… it won’t be easy, you know that.”

“Look,” Tony snapped again. “I can do this, and I will do this. Do I want to do it – no, not really. I think the press have seen enough of me, recently. But I will do it because it needs to be done. We all know Rogers hates these things too, but he’ll suck it up and smile and nod on queue, as will I.”

“They are going to ask about other things, too. They will ask you about what happened.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’re all going to want to know about how I killed Ross and got away with it.”

“That and other things… your parents,” he said, watching Tony’s reaction carefully, “Barnes. They are going to try and catch you off guard, get a reaction, you need to brace yourself, and you need to stay in control of yourself.”

“Is the pep talk over?” Tony asked, trying his best not to give any reaction now.

“It is,” Fury said, giving in. “But there is one other thing. Rhodey.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “What about Rhodey?”

“He’ll be at the press conference.”

“Yeah – the point was that we’d all be there. United front remember? Well, except Barnes-”

“I think it would be a good idea if he wears his full military uniform,” Fury interrupted.

Tony just shrugged. 

“And I think he should use the wheelchair too, rather than the braces.”

Tony shook his head. “Trying to get more sympathy votes?”

“They kidnapped a highly decorated, severely injured US war hero, and hurt him, threatened him with torture – having him there, showing his disability-“

“He’s not disabled!” Tony defended, unable to help himself.

“Showcasing his injury, it’s just another reminder of how far the Government fell, that the power Ross was handed under the Accords was too much, and why it can never happen again.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face, he didn’t want to see his friend in that wheelchair again, it was another reminder of how much damage he had caused.

“And the braces, they are another distraction we don’t need right now. People will want to know how a partially paralysed man can suddenly walk again. We need to keep the focus on the Amendments and why we need them so badly.”

“You should be talking to Rhodey about this, not me,” Tony said, resignedly.

Fury nodded. “We’re having a team talk in thirty minutes, to draft our joint statement. It would be good if you and Rhodey joined us. We need to be as prepared as possible. You can ask him about it before then.”

Tony glanced at his watch. “Fine,” he said, reluctantly, getting up from is seat, forcing Fury to do the same to let him pass. “Can’t wait," he muttered to himself bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter length, I have not had as much free time over the holidays as expected! I'll try and get as much written as I can before I go back to work next week. I'm thinking there are another 2-4 chapters left to wrap this up. I swore that would be the end of ff for me, but I have another story in mind already...
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and leaving your comments, it is hugely appreciated, and the comments are especially motivational! 
> 
> Thanks x


	43. Chapter 43

The plane landed, then taxied into a private hanger as arranged. The others were packing up there things, clutching copies of the Amendments – they had spent the last twenty minutes cramming over the major changes. Tony had refused his copy, given he had instigated most of the changes, he didn’t need to review anything, it was all in his head. Rhodey had taken his copy and seated himself next to Tony, but then dozed off again. He had spent most of the flight sleeping, and Tony was worried. Physically, he knew the use of the braces was exhausting his friend, but mentally, Tony was sure there were other issues too. He had agreed to use the wheelchair at the press conference without question, and Tony wished he had put up at least a little fight.

He nudged Rhodey awake with his shoulder.

“We landed?” Rhodey grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Sure did,” Tony said, tapping his legs as he watched the others begin to leave the plane. 

“We’re travelling in the car with Fury,” Rhodey said, struggling for a moment to get up, before he righted himself.

“Do me a favour,” Tony said, looking back out of the window, watching the others climb down the steps. “Send your car back for me?”

“Should I be offended?” Rhodey replied, smirking so that Tony knew he didn't mean it. “You want a bit of space?”

“Just want to prepare myself,” he said. “As soon as we get out of those cars, the show starts.”

“That it does,” Rhodey said, patting him on the shoulder. “See you on the other side.”

“Rhodey,” Tony said quietly. “Will Pepper, be there? In the staging area, before we go on?”

“Of course, she organised this whole thing. She’s running it all.”

“I’d rather not… see her. Before. I don’t want to be – distracted,” he said, more to himself.

Rhodey nodded. “I understand, I’m sure Pepper will too. I’ll send the car back, be ready in ten.”

“Thanks.” Tony nodded to himself, and stayed seated as Rhodey made his way awkwardly down the steps to the tarmac, to Fury waiting below, hands on his hips.

*

Tony rode alone, as requested, and from leaving the car he was directed to a private room by an eager assistant. The room held a single bed, which had a navy blue Armani three piece suit laid out on it. It looked new, he didn't recognise it, but he liked it. He ran his hand down the material and smiled slightly. He read the note pinned to the jacket and smiled again. 

“Tony, I’ve had the suit adjusted already, but there is a tailor on hand if it needs further alteration.”

He was certain the handwriting as Peppers. He showered, shaved and changed, tucking the note from Pepper into his jackets inside pocket. He grinned again when he found the sunglasses nestled in their already, Pepper really had thought of everything. He looked at himself in the mirror, but then quickly looked away. He had expected the clothing to make him feel better, more like himself, but he still felt hollow instead. The intern led him to a second room where a makeup artist was waiting for him but he waved the woman away impatiently.

He saw Fury within the chaos of the main room and went over to him, he was dressed in a black suit, it looked like Pepper had provided outfits for everyone. 

“Hey,” Fury said, checking his watch, “we leave in twenty minutes, there’s an auditorium on the other side of this building, just a few minutes’ walk away. Conference starts in thirty. You good to go?”

“I’m good to get this over with.” Tony leaned in to take a closer look at Fury. “Are you – did you – you got made up? You’re wearing makeup,” he laughed.

“That I am,” Fury said, face serious. “I think you could benefit from some too.”

Tony laughed again. “Yeah,” he agreed, subconsciously rubbing a hand over his scarred ear. “I’m sure I would.”

Fury glanced at his watch again. “Let’s get the others and get moving.”

*

Tony wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked onto the stage with the others, he’d experienced hundreds if not thousands of press conferences before, he usually received cheers, applause, people used to be happy to see him, excited even. He didn’t expect applause, this time he envisioned boos, angry shouts, maybe people throwing things onto the stage even, but never, ever, in all of his years before had he walked into a room holding over 400 members of the press, to complete silence. 

They stood in their agreed order, Steve to Tony’s left, Rhodey to his right, the others taking their places in a neat row behind them. They had agreed to stand through it all to make Rhodey's use of the chair stand out. Tony accidentally bumped Roger’s arm and he took a slight step away, his leg then brushing against the metal of Rhodey’s chair instead. He looked down at Rhodey, in the wheelchair, and felt his chest tighten. Rhodey looked up at him and nodded, it was a question, Tony could read it. He nodded back, then straightened his posture and stared out at the sea of faces waiting for them, staring up at them expectantly, with phones, cameras and notepads poised.

Fury took a step forwards, holding his arms out wide, forcing the audience’s attention onto himself.

“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for taking the time to join us today. You have already been briefed, but before we begin, I would like to remind you that we will not be taking any questions during this session. We’re here to talk to you about the Accords, and the Amendments, but nothing else, not right now. We are working with the Government and will be giving full statements detailing everything that happened since the signing of the Accords, and they will be made public. So I repeat, there will be no questions. Is that understood?”

The silence was broken by a loud shout. “Stark, what happened in the Raft?” More questions quickly followed, people began to shout out over one another, questions and statements intelligible, just noise. Fury sighed, and Steve, unable to help himself, looked to Tony. Tony swallowed hard, took a step forwards, and removed the tinted sunglasses from his face. The noise in the room quietened down into a hush.

“You heard what Fury said,” Tony said, “we’re not here to answer your questions, especially not any stupid ones. ‘What happened in the Raft,’” he spat, “seriously, that’s your question, that’s your one question – when you and everyone else in this room has probably already watched what happened over and over? Look, if there is time, after we deliver our statement, about the Amendments, which were approved by your government today, so I’d expect you’d want to hear about them, then, if there’s time, we’ll answer some of your questions. But not any stupid ones, I refuse to waste my time with ridiculous questions.”

The room fell silent again. Tony put his sunglasses back on, but then another voice called out, “Why did Captain America try to kill you?”

Tony yanked them off his face again angrily. “Did you not just hear what I said? No stupid questions, no stupid questions!” He ran a hand through his hair angrily as he looked out into the crowd, he could feel sweat start to collect at the back of his neck. 

He startled slightly when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and turned to see Steve, having stepped forward, stood at his side. He looked nervous, and cleared his throat before speaking.

“I didn’t try to kill Tony, but I did hurt him, and I’m sorry for that. We’ve had our differences, recently, due to the Accords, and things spun out of control… drastically. But the Amendments, they are our way to overcome those differences, and they are our compromise. Now, like you have been told, repeatedly, we are not here to answer your questions. Tony has kindly agreed to answer some questions, after we deliver our statement, and he didn’t have to do that. But we will, but only if you listen first. If we’re interrupted again, the conference is over.”

Tony looked at Steve, surprised, and even more surprised, when two whole minutes passed in complete silence. Steve took a step back, and then Tony did the same. He glanced down at Rhodey who was looking up at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony stared back, uncertain of what had just happened, and then Fury continued where he had left off, and Tony, putting his sunglasses back on, let out a long breath and started to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are fast approaching the end! I have two more chapters planned, which I hope to write ASAP! As always, please, please, PLEASE leave your comments, they help keep me writing!!! Thank you all for reading, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! xx


	44. Chapter 44

The conference took just over two hours before they were able to wrap it up, and Tony was tired. Most of the questions allowed after the statement had been delivered were directed at him, he had stumbled through a few answers before his ex-team mates had stepped in to take some, even though they were all directed at him. He didn’t want to admit it to them, but he was grateful for the break. The group headed back to the staging area, and Pepper had cars waiting to take them over to a nearby hotel where rooms had been prepared for them. She had arranged a separate car for Tony alone, and he was surprised when it turned off into a different direction, breaking away from the rest of the convoy. 

“Uh, where are we going?” Tony asked, slightly concerned. 

“We have you down for a different location Sir,” the young driver said, sounding equally nervous. “We should arrive in seven minutes,” he added, handing Tony a slightly crumpled envelope that had his name scrawled on the front of it.

“Tony, I thought you would want some privacy, so I’ve booked a floor in a different hotel from the others. Rhodey knows, and I’ll stop by later, if that’s okay. Pepper.”

Tony folded the letter up and relaxed slightly, and then minutes later, they arrived. The driver grabbed Tony’s bag for him and walked him to the hotel entrance, where a waiting bell boy took it from him. Tony tapped his pockets but they were empty, he just had his duffel bag and sunglasses. “I’m sorry,” he said, blushing slightly. “I don’t have any money on me,” he laughed slightly. “This doesn’t happen often,” he added, feeling awkward.

“Miss Potts actually tipped me in advance, Sir.” The driver said, and left. The bell boy threw his bag over one shoulder and held the door open for Tony who followed him inside. “I was also tipped in advance, Sir,” he said, and Tony followed him up to his room, his floor, in silence. He felt himself smile slightly as he was left alone with his bag of meagre possessions, Pepper really did think of everything.

The room was spacious and luxurious. Tony left his bag by the door and shook his suit jacket off before heading over to the kitchen, which was fully stocked. He opened the fridge and let out a short laugh as he saw the numerous green smoothies lining the shelf. He picked one up and wandered around the floor as he sipped on the drink, there was a large living and dining area, and multiple bedrooms and bathrooms. He went inside the office and sat down at the wide desk, looking out of the bay window onto a view of the city. 

“Now this is a view,” he muttered to himself.

There was a minibar in the office, he opened it up and eyed the miniature bottles of alcohol that stood next to the candy bars. He pulled out three miniature bottles of scotch and rolled them back and forth in his hand before lining them up into a neat row on the surface of the desk. He picked the middle one up and twisted the cap off, then downed the drink in one, the bottle only held two mouthfuls. He drank the second bottle quickly, and then the third.

He coughed as it burned his throat, and suddenly Ross was on him again, cold fingers digging into his face, his jaw, prying his mouth open as he forced the bottle into his mouth, the liquid down his throat, and then suddenly he was on the floor, on his hands and knees, retching until he vomited up scotch and green bile onto the thick grey carpet. Once finished he rolled onto his side and laid still on the carpet, hands trembling slightly as he willed the memory away. 

He waited for a few minutes before pushing himself back to his feet, then downed the rest of his smoothie to get the taste of alcohol out of his mouth, and dropped some tissues from a gold plated box on the desk over the mess on the floor, not intending to do anything further to clean it up.

He wandered into the master bedroom and whistled, the room was spacious with floor to ceiling windows on one wall, and a large ornate four poster bed. A walk in wardrobe held suits and sweats, underwear and shoes, everything had tags on it, it was all new. Pepper had clearly managed to sort out their accounts after Ross froze his assets during his incarceration. He kicked his shoes off and took off his tie, unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt and then laid down on the bed, staring up at the pattern adorning the ceiling. He intended to take a shower, but he just wanted to take a minute first. He didn’t mean to nod off, but he did, feeling exhausted after what had been a successful but long and draining day.

*

Pepper arrived at the hotel much later, it had taken hours to wrap everything up after the conference. She had stayed behind to mop up, taking and fielding phone calls, getting lawyers on standby, and giving interviews of her own. It had been almost four hours since Tony’s car had left, so she had finally given in, shut off her phone and headed directly the hotel.

A different bell boy helped her carry her bags up to the floor, and she pulled a case on wheels behind her too, she didn’t know how Tony would react to her presence, but she had planned on staying for a week at least, just until things settled down around them. The young man placed her bags in the entrance and she thanked him and then locked the door behind herself after he left. She waited a few minutes by the door, holding her breath and listening hard for any sign of Tony, feeling suddenly nervous. 

She kicked her heels off and ran her hands down her dress self-consciously, feeling anxious as to how Tony would react to her presence. She wanted to see him so, so badly, but at the same time she was scared, suddenly worried about rejection. She took another deep breath, patted down her hair, and then called for him, not wanting to startle him by just appearing, but there was no reply. 

She called out for him again as she headed through the living area towards the master bedroom. She stopped in the doorway as she saw him laid on the bed, over the covers, but sleeping soundly. She entered the room slowly, watching him carefully, but his back was to her. She moved around to the other side of the bed and then climbed onto the edge of the mattress gently, so she could see his face. His eyelids fluttered slightly but he didn’t wake, and Pepper curled up on the free pillow, moving as close to him as she could without actually touching him, and simply watched, finally feeling herself start to relax as she took him in. He looked tired and thin and his face had more lines on it than she remembered, but he was here, he was still here, and that was all that mattered. She reached out for his hand, taking it in hers, then pulling back slightly to gasp as she saw the thick pink scars where his fingernails should be. She held the hand between both of hers and fell to sleep herself, the pillow beneath her cheek damp from her tears. 

*

Pepper woke later, and tried to remain as still as possible so as to not wake Tony, she could still feel his hand held softly between her own, it was warm. She tightened her grip slightly and smiled to herself before opening her eyes and gasping slightly, as she realised that Tony was awake and staring at her, expression blank.

“Oh,” she said, still startled as she released his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were awake.”

“It’s okay,” he said, watching her carefully. “Hey.”

Pepper let out a warm laugh at that. “Hey,” she repeated back at him.

“How are you?” he asked uncertainly, still watching her, for what, Pepper wasn’t sure.

“I’m good,” she said after considering her answer. “Now that you’re here,” she added, taking his hand again, and kissing it gently. “Everything’s just… fine.”

“Pepper,” he said, voice stronger. “I’m not – you don’t have to-“

He pulled his hand away from her and sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard wearily. 

“I’m not-“ She broke off, frustrated, and climbed out of the bed to stand over by the window. “You know you’ve been gone for a long time, Tony. Such a long time.” She kept her back to him as she stared out onto the view. “And it’s been… hell.” She gave another slight laugh but there was no humour in her voice this time. “I mean, I know things were difficult for you, more so than me, but, I mean, it’s just been so hard,” she broke off, finally turning to look at him. “The second we decided to take a break, I knew it was a mistake. I knew it. And then, the Accords happened, and the fighting started, and everything – everything just spiralled. So quickly. And then you were gone.” She moved back around to the bed so she was facing him, refusing to let herself cry. “I have missed you, so much,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “I have been so, so worried. I really didn’t think I’d get you back this time. I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, his voice quiet. “You shouldn’t have had to go through-“

“No!” She cut him off angrily. “You do not apologise for this. This is not on you. This was – this was-“ she broke off again, angry with herself for letting her emotions take over her. “All I know is, we’re supposed to be together. You and I. We were made to be together. And I don’t want to spend another minute away from you.”

Tony looked down at his hands resting on his lap, not saying anything. “Pep, you know I love you, I love you more than anything. And I didn’t think I’d get to see you again either, but I’m a… mess,” he said quietly, finally meeting her eyes. 

Pepper smiled through watery eyes as she climbed back onto the bed to sit next to him, her leg brushing against his as she picked his hand up again and held it in hers. 

“I hate to break it to you Tony, but you’ve always been a bit of a mess.” 

Tony smiled at the joke, but then shook his head. “I mean it Pep, I’m not – I’m still-“ he took a deep breath. “It's just, a lot has happened. A lot.” He turned his head to the side so he could face her. “Look at me Pep,” he said, reaching his free hand up to rub at his scarred ear, unaware he had even done it. “I even look a mess! There’s no hiding it now. I don’t want to be- I’m not-” 

He was unable to finish, as Pepper climbed over him so she was straddling his lap, making sure she didn’t put any weight on his body, she’d seen him tense as he’d sat up in bed earlier. She reached over and gently kissed him on the scarred ear, before taking his face in both of her hands and kissing him lightly on the lips. She moved away to sit next to him again, but leant over to whisper in his ear. “I love you Tony, and that’s all that matters.”

She leant her head against his shoulder and sighed deeply, and Tony moved so that his head was resting on top of hers. He reached over and picked her hand up to hold in his, and they stayed together in that position for a long time, neither saying anything, just taking in the moment.

*

The next morning, after ordering everything on the room service breakfast menu, because Tony wanted bacon, and showering, both separately and then together, Tony found Pepper working on a laptop in the office.

“Oh,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “I uh, wasn’t feeling too good, in here, earlier, and I-“

Pepper smiled at him, shutting the laptop down. “It’s been taken care of,” she said.

“Phew,” Tony muttered, leaning on the corner of the desk. “You working? I thought you were taking some time off.”

“I’m not really working,” she said. “Just taking care of the things that can’t wait.”

Tony smiled. “That sounds a lot like working.”

“Yeah,” she gave in, rolling her eyes. “I guess I am working, but only a little. I was also putting some plans into place for when we go home.”

“Home?”

“We can stay here for as long as you want, but I didn’t think you would want to go back to the Compound, or the Tower. I can have Malibu ready in a couple of days, if you’d rather go there.”

Tony scratched at his chin but then nodded. “Malibu might be nice, for a while,” he said, surprised by how much the thought of a retreat sounded to himself right now.

“I need to go to the Compound, tomorrow,” he said, considering his words carefully as he checked his watch. “And I need to see a lawyer. Today, it we can, if not first thing tomorrow, before I head over to see the others.”

“Okay,” Pepper said, curious. “Can I ask why you want to go to the Compound?”

“I have some business I need to take care of. Look,” he said, deciding she should know what he was thinking. “I’m leaving the Avengers, effective immediately, I’m cutting off all ties with them. I’ll maintain my status as Iron Man,” he quickly added, not wanting her to get too hopeful at the idea of him fully stepping down. “I am Iron Man,” he continued, “and if they need me, I’ll be there. But I’m no longer an Avenger. I can’t work with them anymore, I just – I can’t.”

"Do you need some time to think about this?"

Tony smiled at her as he shook his head sadly. "I've had plenty of time to think about it."

Pepper nodded. “Well then, you’re not contractually obliged to work with them, you know that you can just walk away, you don’t to talk to legal about this.”

Tony chewed his lip for a moment, Pepper had noticed him doing it a lot since she had him back. “Before, when I was in Wakanda, after everything had happened, I thought I was going to die. So I made a will.”

Pepper paled at the way he could talk about his death so carelessly.

“I left some money, quite a lot of money, and the Compound and all of its facilities, to the Avengers. I want to give them that now.”

Pepper stood up, worried. “You don’t owe them anything, Tony. You want to walk away, you just walk away. You don’t have to compensate them.”

“I’m know that, but I can’t just walk away. I always financed them, and I can’t pull that funding and have them not be in a position to be able to help others because of that. The public deserve better. I’m giving them the money, and then I’m walking away, and they have to maintain themselves. That’s it.”

“I don’t want you to do this because of me,” Pepper said. “If you want to remain as an Avenger, I’ll support you.”

“No,” Tony said, certainty in his voice. “This, I’m doing this for entirely for me. I have to.”

Pepper smiled, relieved. “Then I’ll call legal.”

“Could you call Rogers too, let him know to expect me, tomorrow?”

“You know I can arrange it so you don’t have to go at all, Tony.”

“No,” he said, again determined. “This is something I have to do for myself.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearly at the end! Just one more chapter to go!!!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments and kudos, and please keep reading! x


	45. Chapter 45

Pepper offered to go with Tony to the Compound the following morning, but he refused, again insisting he wanted to go alone, needed to. So Pepper settled for breakfast in bed instead, ordering everything on the menu again, but Tony wasn’t hungry. He sipped at some juice, nibbled at some fruit and checked his watch regularly. 

Pepper didn’t comment on his distraction, she knew he was nervous and didn’t want to add to his discomfort. 

“What time is the car coming?” Tony eventually asked

“Just under two hours,” Pepper said, “Steve is expecting you at 2.00pm.”

“I best get ready,” Tony said, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, rubbing his hands through his hair, and Pepper ran a hand down his back, fingertips dancing over the pink scars that littered the skin. “I need a shower.”

“It’ll take you half an hour to get ready. You’re usually late,” she commented, voice hard. “Maybe you should keep them waiting.”

“Pep, I have to do this,” he said, getting back into the bed and turning to face her. “The sooner I go, the sooner it’s done.”

“An email would suffice,” Pepper said lightly.

“An email? After everything we’ve been through, all of us, you think I should just send them an email? Come on,” he said, getting back up again and climbing out of the bed. “You know Rhodey’s still an Avenger, you think that would be fair on him?”

“Don’t bring Rhodey into this,” Pepper said, not wanting to push him too far, but still needing to challenge his decision. “I just – I just hope they would offer you the same courtesy you’re giving them.”

Tony leant against the wall, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Pepper couldn’t help but count his ribs, he still looked so thin, fragile almost.

“I need to walk away on good terms Pep, and if they need me, in the future, I will be there.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

“Yeah,” Tony said. He nodded his head at her, suddenly curious. “Did you watch it?”

Pepper sat up, bunching the covers around her. “What?”

“Did you watch it?” Tony repeated, cocking his head to the side. “The footage. From the Raft.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as he uttered the last sentence.

“What?” Pepper almost tripped up in her rush to get out of the bed and move over to him. “Tony, how can you ask that? How can you even consider that I would want to see that? To see the man I love, hurt?” She reached out to him and then pulled her hands back as she shook her head. “No, Tony, I didn’t. Because I’m not sick.”

“Okay,” Tony said, still looking away. 

Pepper gently took his face, moving it so he had to look at her. “I love you, Tony,” she broke off to kiss him, gently. “That’s why I couldn’t watch it.”

Tony smiled slightly, relieved. “Good. Because if you had, I don’t think I could…” he trailed off, but Pepper didn’t need him to continue. She knew he wouldn’t get over it, had she seen the footage. He’d be embarrassed and feel weak, and she was sure it wouldn’t do her own frame of mind any favours. 

Tony leaned in to kiss her again, but this time Pepper moved away. 

“I didn’t watch the footage, Tony, none of it. But I did see headlines, in the papers. Lots of them, hundreds even, and everywhere I turned, a newsfeed, TV talk shows, it was everywhere. It was impossible to avoid. And what I read or heard,it has made me question your loyalty to the people who were supposed to watch your back.”

“You should know better than most to not believe what you read in the papers.”

“Did Steve really leave you there?”

“What?”

“Is it true, that he broke every other Avenger out of the Raft but you?”

Tony sighed. “Yes. No,” he quickly added as he saw Pepper about the blow up. “I – yes, he came and rescued the others, and I was left behind. But it wasn’t like that, he didn’t know I was there. Nobody knew I was there.”

“Nobody knew Tony Stark was there? I find that hard to believe!”

“They didn’t, okay, Ross made sure of it. And as much as I’m not a fan of Rogers, I don’t blame him for that. Look,” he said, voice raising with his temper, he was still struggling with mood swings. “A lot happened, okay, a lot. I don’t blame Rogers for leaving me with Ross. I blame him for lying to me about my parents, I blame him for the death of my parents, even though it was his buddy that killed him, and even though his buddy was brainwashed when he did it! I blame him for leaving me in Siberia, even though I tried to kill them both. I blame him for being unwilling to sign the damn Accords in the first place, even though it turned out, as always, that Captain Righteous was right!” He threw his hands up as he finished, still leaning against the wall, chest heaving. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, seeing the worried look on Peppers face. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you, or push you, I just-“

“The truth is, we all messed up, we all helped make this mess, but I’m tired. I’m just so tired of it all. I can’t trust Steve, or any of them, really. I don’t blame them, but I can’t   
forgive them, either. I just want to move on,” he stopped, seeming to relax suddenly. “With you.”

Pepper nodded, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I understand,” she said, then laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, I can’t. But if you’re okay, then I’m okay.”

Tony nodded slightly, holding his good hand on top of hers. “We’ll be okay,” he whispered, then he let go and straightened up, pushing off from the wall. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, checking his watch again. 

Pepper nodded, and wiped at a stray tear she hadn’t realised was making its way down her cheek. 

Tony nodded back, then grinned slyly. “You care to join me?” He held his hand out, and then they both laughed as she grabbed it, and he led them into the bathroom.

*

Tony arrived at the Compound 45 minutes earlier than expected. He had the driver wait outside the building for fifteen minutes before he finally worked up the courage to leave the car, advising the driver that he would call when he was ready for collection. He strode up to the entrance purposefully, briefcase in hand, his fist clenched around the handle tightly.  
He passed the security guards on the entrance, they nodded their heads to him, letting him skip the standard routine upon entry and he nodded back, grateful. He headed towards the offices, staying away from the training area, and entered his fifteen digit code and then scanned his thumb print to get though a security door at the next checkpoint.

He opened the door slowly, then headed down a wide corridor that he knew would lead into what had previously been the Avengers living and dining area. He walked through the area, towards Steve’s office, keeping his head down, and was relieved that the area was empty. He managed to avoid bumping into anyone, and he grinned to himself as he entered Steve's office, closing the door behind himself quickly. He turned around and startled slightly as he saw Steve and Sam sat on the couch, looking up at him with surprised expressions. 

“Tony, uh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you just yet,” Steve said as both men jumped up and moved over to shake his hand. Tony shook both hands with a weak grip, hoping they wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hands suddenly were. 

“I’ll just…” Sam looked around the room awkwardly. “Leave you two alone to… catch up.”

Tony moved over to sit down on the couch, choosing the seat Sam had vacated, and placed his briefcase carefully on the coffee table. Steve hovered for a moment before sitting back down, facing Tony, looking equally nervous.

“You look well,” Steve said, taking in the sharp suit Tony was wearing, even if it hung off of his frame slightly.

“Yeah, look,” Tony said, opening up his briefcase and taking out several documents. “I don’t want this to take long,” he said, setting the papers down on the desk and pushing them   
towards Steve. He looked at Steve expectedly, who looked at the documentation but made no move to read them.

“What is this?” he looked genuinely confused, and Tony swallowed hard, his nerves jolting up a notch.

“I’m leaving the Avengers, effective immediately.”

“Tony, what-“

Tony held his hand up to shut Steve up, and continued talking. 

“I’m not leaving you in the lurch, those documents outline the money I’m transferring over to you, think of it as a float to keep you going in the interim until you secure further funding. A big float. I’m also signing the Compound over to you. I am no longer an Avenger, I am no longer a part of this team,” he couldn’t help slight bitterness that crept into his tone. “If the Avengers need Iron Man, I will be there, but I do not expect to be called upon unless the circumstances are so extreme as to require my presence.”

Tony stood up, smoothing his tie down. “I wish you the best of luck, and harbour no ill feelings, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. I’m sure you understand that.”

“Tony – I just – I don’t-“

“Read the paperwork, then send a signed copy of the contract over to my people. The funds will be transferred to your account, on the understanding that you will use it for the benefit of the Avengers.” Tony smiled slightly. “I’m sure we can trust you with that. The Compound has already been dealt with, you should receive notification of that shortly.”

Tony picked his briefcase up then nodded at Steve. “Good luck.”

Steve followed him to the office door, still too stunned to respond properly. He grabbed Tony's shoulder before he could leave, and Tony had to turn around and face him in order to shrug him off. 

“I’m sorry Tony,” Steve said, holding his hand out, his shoulders slumped, he looked guilty and defeated. 

Tony nodded his head sincerely as he replied. “So am I.”

*

Tony passed Sam loitering in the hallway as he left the office. 

“Hey,” Tony said, suddenly curious. “Are Clint and Natasha here yet?”

Sam nodded. “They got back last night.”

“How’s Clint.”

“He’s doing well. He’s got a long recovery ahead of him, but he’ll come through.”

Tony smiled slightly. “Good.” 

"You want to see him?"

Tony ignored him and left, and made it outside of the Compound without meeting anyone else, which he was extremely grateful for. He had to wait a few minutes for the car to arrive, and he climbed into the backseat, leaning he head against the headrest, looking out of the window. He watched the large “A” adorning the front of the building become smaller and smaller until the car turned off and it was no longer visible. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes as relief swept through him.

*

Pepper was in the office working when Tony returned to the hotel. 

“Hey,” he said casually as he dropped the almost empty briefcase down on to the desk she was working at.

“Hey,” she replied, getting up to greet him. “How did it go?”

Tony shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Fine, actually.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, he was quite surprised, I think. I was in and out in under five minutes. Kept it brief. Left him a copy of the contract to look over and sign. That was it.” He sighed. “In and out, easy.”

“And how are you feeling now?”

She was worried he would regret his decision, but she relaxed as she saw a genuine smile light up his face. “I’m feeling great, actually.”

Pepper smiled too. “Good.”

“I want to go back to Malibu, tomorrow.”

“Sure, okay, I can make some calls and put that in place. You sure you want to go back so soon?”

Tony nodded, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Tomorrow, first thing,” he said, nodding to himself. “It’s time to go home, get back to normal.”

“You have any plans for tonight?”

Tony frowned for a moment, before checking his watch. “Actually, I do.” 

*

Tony knocked on the apartment door three times, frowning at the chipped paintwork on the doorframe. It had been a long time since he had last been here, but he pushed the   
thought from his mind as the young man opened the door and took a surprised step back, before getting over his shock and rushing towards Tony and enveloping him in a crushing   
hug.

The movement jarred his still healing injuries, his chest began to ache but Tony ignored it and managed to pat the young man on the back gently before he was released.

“Peter Parker,” Tony said, taking his sunglasses off. “Long time, no see.”

“What are you doing here?!” The pure enthusiasm in the kid’s voice reminded Tony of why he had liked him so much in the first place.

“I was kind of hoping you’d invite me in. Is your hot aunt around?”

Peter rolled his eyes as he stepped back to let Tony in. “No, May’s at work.”

“Good,” Tony said, sitting himself down on the couch. He patted the seat next to him, indicating Peter should do the same. “We need to talk.”

Peter sighed as he sat down. “How are you anyway – are you-“

“Nope,” Tony cut him off. “I’m fine, and I’m here to talk about you. Did you sign the Amendments?”

Peter nodded. “I did, actually. The changes allow me to keep my identity a secret, thank you for that, by the way, so yes, I did. Yesterday. After school.”

“Good,” Tony peered down at them. “And did you read them?”

“Yes! Of course I read them, Mr Stark, I’m not an idiot.”

“Good. Listen – I need to tell you something, before it leaks to the press. I quit the Avengers. I’m going solo. Well, I mean, if needed, I’ll do my Iron Man duty, but only when a situation is severe enough to require my presence. Iron Man is still lingering, but Tony Stark is retired, and I have cut all ties with the Avengers.”

He looked at Peter expectantly, waiting for a reaction. 

“So, uh, okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say.”

“Yeah. Actually, I understand. I like to fly solo myself, so to speak.”

“You do?” Tony stared at him, and Peter couldn’t meet his gaze. “Because I thought you wanted to be an Avenger. And I won’t be offended if you do – now you’ve signed the   
Amendments, I’ll even put a good word in for you with Cap.”

Peter got up and started to pace. “That’s not necessary,” he said, polite as always. “I just… I want to keep doing this on my own.”

“Why?”

Peter looked away.

“Peter,” Tony said, resting his elbows on his knees. “What's wrong?"

Peter looked over at him with guilty, pleading eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, but I watched it all. Everything. I had to.” He turned his back to Tony so he didn’t have to look   
at him. “I watched it all – saw everything – I saw the way the Avengers left you, and I saw what Ross did to you, to try and get you to tell him where they were… and who I am.” He turned back around to face Tony, and lifted his head so he wasn’t slouching. “I saw you refuse to turn me in.”

“Yeah well, that’s just one of the cons of the job.”

“No, don’t say that.” Peter suddenly had tears in his eyes. “They hurt you, you let them hurt you, to protect me. I’m very grateful, Mr. Stark. But it did make me think… maybe I am better off on my own. For now. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“You know Ross was just looking for an excuse to hurt me, right? We had a bit of history, I was kind of a jerk to him, before.”

“That’s not true, and even if it were, I still don’t want to be that excuse. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me ever again.”

Tony nodded. “I understand,” he said, face serious. “I’m sorry you had to see that Peter, but I’m glad you did.”

Peter looked at him in surprise.

“What we do, there’s always a level of risk attached to it. People will always be looking for you, and not always with good intentions. It’s dangerous. What happened to me – our own government did that – so imagine what your greatest enemy can do.”

“You can’t talk me out of this,” Peter said, determined.

“No, I can’t. I know that. I just need you to be aware of the risks. Let what you saw be a reminder to yourself, to be careful, if nothing else.”

Tony’s phone beeped. He ignored it. “I have to go soon, I just wanted to check in on you, and make sure you had signed, so at least it’s just the bad guys you need to watch your back from.”

Peter nodded. “I’m not ignoring your warning Mr Stark, I appreciate it. It’s just… I know the danger, but it doesn’t matter. I have to do this, but I have to do it by myself.”

Tony smiled slightly. “I thought you’d say that.” He suddenly reached into his pocket, remembering the device he had brought along with him. “Here,” he said, handing Peter the phone. “You need anything, and I mean anything, and you call me. Anytime – anywhere - for anything. Never be too proud to ask for help. You understand?”

Peter nodded as he took the phone, not trusting himself to speak. 

Tony pushed himself up from the couch slowly, body still aching and pulling in places. “Take care, Spiderman. Good luck out there.”

He held his hand out and Peter shook it firmly, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he replied. “You too, Tony.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that! I hope you enjoyed the story. I wanted it to end with a reconciliation between Tony and Peter, so I hope it worked well and you are happy with how things were wrapped up!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your encouraging comments! I can't believe this has taken me just over a year, and I can't believe I have actually written over 100,000 words!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it x

**Author's Note:**

> I am hoping to continue this story, I have lots of ideas for where I would like it to go.  
> Please comment with any feedback you have! This really does encourage me to keep going!  
> Thanks :) x


End file.
